Forever Alpha
Andrew C
CHAPTER ONE
"Damn you, Nicholas!"
He heard the voice, as he had, over and over again, day after day,
dream after dream, for the last few years, since it had happened. Each
time, it was the same. His Master, standing over him, spike raised,
pointing directly down at his heart. He, prone over the dying body of
his beloved, mind and soul resigned to the inevitable. Body tensed, he
waited, ready. Ready for the killing blow, the blow that...
That never came. As in each and every dream, identical to all the
others, he heard only the clatter of the twisted wooden stake, and the
whoosh of his Master's departure. And, always, echoing in his mind,
that voice...
"Damn you, Nicholas!"
He snapped awake, as always momentarily disoriented, at a noise.
As his mind cleared, he heard it again, and sat up. The bloody sweat on
his forehead dripped off, some of it dripping onto the phone as he
leaned over it .
"Kni...Barber, here."
"Hey, Nick," said the voice on the other end, crackly with
distance and shifts of media. "Vincent here."
"Ben, What's up?"
"Hey, are you awake at all?"
"Yeah. What is it?"
"You've been accepted, Nick. Simmonds passed on your application.
Signed, sealed, and approved."
"That's great," said Nick, fully awake, now. "When?"
"You leave for Alpha in three days, Nick."
"Great," said Nick, putting his feet over the edge of the bed. He
felt better now, that his dream was fading. "I...well, I just can't
believe it."
"Well, believe it. You must have some resume’, guy. It takes an
awful lot to impress Simmonds, you know. Not to mention Doctor
Russell."
"I do my best," said Nick. "See you in three days."
Nick hung up, and went for the shower, cleansing away the last
vestiges of his nightmare. Done, dried, and dressed, he headed for the
kitchen. Opening the fridge, he reached for a bottle, and pulled the
cork with his teeth. Slowly, he downed the red fluid, letting it course
over his tongue, and down his throat. Within moments, he could feel the
energy begin to move through him, suffusing his limbs. He leaned his
head back, wiped the small traces of blood from his mouth, and sighed,
closing his eyes.
Nicholas Barber, aka Nicholas de Brabant, dumped the empty in the
trash, and closed the refrigerator door. Feeling better, he opened the
blinds of his apartment, and looked out over New York City, then up at
the Moon, approaching full. Soon, he'd be up there, on Moonbase Alpha.
Away from all the bitter memories, away from others of his kind, away
from the Enforcers
And, he smiled, away from his Master, and endless tormentor,
Lucien LaCroix.
Nick thought that the Eagle Shuttle was the most beautiful flying
machine he'd ever seen. Its lines somehow brought to mind a fine, well-
bred warhorse, such as he had once ridden into battle, as a mortal man.
He smiled, at the memory, and stood on the pad, watching the techs
finish their checkouts, and listened to the sounds of the night. Here,
near London, one could still hear the crickets, and other sounds of the
nocturnal world. For a moment, he felt the urge to leap out into the
darkness, seeking prey, to revel once more in being a vampire.
But no. He fought down the impulse, and with a deep breath turned
back to the Eagle. He hefted his bag, and headed for the ship, with a
spring in his step, but anticipation, too. Once up on Alpha, he'd see
her again. They would be reunited. He, and his...
"Excuse me, sir," said a security man at the hatch, motioning for
him to stop. "I have to check your bag, Dr. Barber." He reached for
Nick's satchel. "Security regulations, you understand."
"You already have," said Nick, looking into the guard's eyes, and
pushing a thought. "Remember? You looked."
"Yes. Yes, of course I looked," replied the guard. "Of course. I
knew that, sir."
"And you've signed off on it," added the handsome vampire.
"Yeah. That's right. Signed off," said the slack-faced guard.
"Good," said Nick, and passed on in.
The interior of the Eagle's passenger compartment was surprisingly
spacious, and Nick took his seat. Once comfy, he dared a quick dive
into his bag, and pulled out a bottle. He downed a long gulp, and
thrust it back in, as the stewardess came out.
"All settled in, Doctor?
"Yes, thank you," replied Nick.
"Would you care for something to eat?"
"No, thanks. I've already had something this evening."
"Very well. We'll be lifting off in fifteen minutes, Dr. Barber."
"Is there a delay?" Nick looked at his watch.
"We'll be transporting several students up to Alpha as well,
Doctor. A summer study program."
Ah, I see. When can I communicate with Alpha?"
"Once we're up beyond the atmosphere, sir. Right now, a relay
satellite is off-line. It won't be... ah, here they are."
The stewardess left him, to greet the new arrivals, and Nick
settled back into the comfy seat. He'd rarely flown before, at least
not this way, and never beyond the atmosphere. Now, he was going to be
the first vampire in space.
Well, he smiled, not the first.
All in, he heard the launch call, and listened to the Eagle's
engines begin to whine. Then, there was a sharp thump as the thrusters
fired, and the VTOL craft lifted off its pad, and began to climb. After
a few minutes, he felt the ship's artificial gravity take over, and
then drifted off to sleep.
"Life is a gift," he heard his Master say, once more. As always,
he was in his old loft, in Toronto, Natalie on the floor, LaCroix over
him, wavering and insubstantial.
"I've taken too much," he said, hearing the words come from his
other self, as he watched this dream yet again. In third person, yet
also very much part of it.
"You must either bring her across," said LaCroix, "or let her
die."
"No."
"You must."
"Nat..."
"I'm not afraid..."
"Nick..."
"I have faith..."
"Damn you, Nicholas!"
"Nicholas, you must not go."
"I..."
"Nicholas," said a voice, and he awoke. Across the cabin from him,
standing in the hatchway to the flight deck, was a woman. In a flowing
white dress and long brunette hair, she was entirely out of place,
here.
"Erica!" said Nick, as he recognized her. A friend. An old friend.
Erica, a fellow traveler in the darkness. Once his lover and fellow
thespian, she had at last grown weary of the world, and put an end to
herself. Sitting on a park bench, she'd waited for sunrise, staring
unafraid into the fire. She'd burned up, leaving only her clothes,
dust, and a mystery behind. Since then, her ghost had visited Nick a
few times, always with the same plea.
To join her.
"Nicholas, you must not go," said the apparition.
"Erica? What the...what are you talking about?"
"Alpha, Nicholas. You must not go there, Nicholas. There is danger
there, for you."
"Erica, what do you mean? It's perfectly..."
"Come," she said, opening her arms to him, "join me, Nicholas."
She drew closer. "Is it not time, My Love? I..."
"Doctor Barber? Doctor Barber?" said another voice. At once, Erica
vanished, replaced by the stewardess, looking down at him.
"Hhmm? Oh, yes. What is it?" He briefly glanced at the hatch. No
one. Had he...?
"There is a message for you, Doctor. From Alpha, on Channel One."
"Uh, yes," said Nick, at last coming fully awake, and shaking off
his dream. "Uh..." he began, but the stewardess anticipated him.
"Phones, sir," she said, handing him some. Nick plugged them in,
and activated the screen.
"Nick," said the voice in his ears. Nick smiled, as only Natalie's
voice could make him smile.
"Nat, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."
"Same here, but it's only been a week, Nick." She got that minxish
smile of hers. "Miss me already?"
"I miss you after seven minutes, Nat. How are you settling in?"
"Well, the decor up here is egregious. Whoever designed the place
must have had a major plastic fetish. No, more like a plastic
psychosis. And the uniforms." She rolled her eyes.
"I know," he replied, rolling his, too. "Maybe I should have worn
my old Coat of Arms, and chain mail."
"Well, that and your sword sure would beat this 70's Mod revival
up here, Nick. These duds look like something Rudi Gernreich would have
come up with.” Natalie shuddered in mock horror. ”How long?"
"Uh..." He consulted his watch. "Another two hours, Nat."
"Wish that flying crayon was faster. Doctor Russell is anxious to
meet you. So is Doctor Vincent, again."
"Those the only reasons?" he grinned, the boyish grin he always
used on her. It worked. She blushed.
"Hell no. I'm also horny," she replied, trying not to giggle. She
lost the fight.
"Well, I'll just have to see what I can do about that," he smiled
back at her. "How goes the project?"
"Shaping up just great. It won't be much longer." He waited a
beat, listening to the hiss of the phones. "Nat, is everything okay up
there?"
"Sure. What makes you ask?" Silence. "Nick?"
"Oh..." He turned, and saw the students nattering amongst
themselves. "I'll talk to you when I get there, Nat."
"Okay," she said, face a little puzzled. He terminated the
connection, and the screen went back to its annoying test pattern. He
hit another control, and got an image of his destination directly
ahead. The Moon. Almost as soon as he had done so, there was another
message for him.
From Earth.
He switched over, and was greeted by the calm, yet angrily glaring
face of the one person he really did not want to see, just now. Or
ever, for that matter. Someone he had known for a long, long time. A
man he, illogically, both loved, and despised.
His Master. Lucien LaCroix.
"Nicholas."
CHAPTER TWO
Nick was impressed by the sight of the Meta Probe launch complex,
in high lunar orbit, as they drew close. He also felt a slight glow of
pride, at the secret knowledge that it was he, or at least the de
Brabant Foundation, that had helped fund much of Alpha's construction,
and was also involved in the upcoming Meta Probe. One did not repay
society for one's sins solely by being a cop, and catching bad guys.
Already, new medicines and therapies were coming out of Alpha's medical
research labs, and the spin-off technologies, not to mention the patent
royalties, were piling up.
He watched the base slide underneath them, as they came over the
lip of Plato Crater, then the automatic guidance took over, settling
them onto pad four. Once the cowl was was secure and the hatch opened,
he let the students go first, giving the cabin a last once-over with
his preternatural senses. He felt no further hint of Erica's presence.
"Doctor Barber?" said the stewardess.
"Oh, yes. Coming," said Nick, and he left the Eagle.
"Any trouble?" asked Natalie, once he had settled in to their
quarters.
"No. We all had to check in with Security of course, but that was
no problem, Nat."
"Thank God Verdeschi isn't a resister," said Nat, kneeling behind
him on the bed, rubbing his neck. "He is kind of cute, though."
"Nat."
"Ah, jealousy," she sighed. "Yes, all I need to do is look into
his eyes, and he's mine. Do you hear me? Mine!"
"He tries it, and he's lunch, Nat."
"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "Spoilsport. You meet Gorski yet?"
"No. Verdeschi said they were all in some kind of conference."
"Bureaucracy is everywhere, Nick. It was the same in the Coroner's
Office. It was the same in the Department for you. You get to the moon,
and what do you find?"
"It was like that, even in my day, Nat."
"Oh, and which one of your days are we talking about, hhmmmm?" she
teased, pinching him.
"All of them, Natalie. Man's greatest bane, I am certain, was the
invention of writing."
“Funny, my mother always said it was television.”
“Grrrrr!” he replied. He straightened his back, and stood up. "Be
thankful you didn't have to write your autopsy reports on vellum, with
a quill pen. In Latin."
"Oh yes, just love those declensions! Or how about with a stylus,
on clay tablets," she laughed, getting up as well. “Hhmm?”
"Natalie Barber, aka deBrabant," he scowled, arms akimbo, "I never
wrote on clay tablets." The scowl dissolved into a grin, then a laugh.
He then fell silent, and Nat could sense that something wasn't right.
"What is it, Nick?" No answer. "Nick, you asked on the way up if
everything was okay." She waited another beat. "Is it the dreams,
again?"
"Yes," he knodded, then added: "Well, not exactly."
"Not exactly?" she asked, moving closer. “And just how not exactly
is not exactly?”
"It's the same, Nat. That...night, in my loft. Only this time
there was a difference."
"How?"
"Erica was there."
"Erica?" asked Nat, obviously taken by surprise. "What did she
say?"
"She told me that I shouldn't come here. That there was danger
here, for me."
"And you believe her, Nick?"
"Of course not," said Nick. "She's only..."
"Only a figment of your dreams, Nicholas of Castle de Brabant,"
said Nat, voice going into "scientist" mode. "Ghosts, My Big
Superstitious 13th Century Crusader Hunk, do not exist."
"Nat, I..."
"Nick," she said, hands on hips, glaring at him. “Ghosts…”
"There was a time, Nat, when you would have said that vampires
don't exist, either," he reminded her.
"The changes to our blood and tissues can be observed under a
microscope, Nick. The tools of science. Erica cannot. She's..."
"Doctor Barber," said a voice. On the commpost in their quarters,
the little black-and-white screen now displayed a face. “Ben Vincent
here.”
"Yes?" said Nat, touching the button.
"The meeting is breaking up," said the man on the screen. "Doctor
Russell would like to meet you both, in Medical Center."
"We're on our way," said Nat. She signed off, then turned back to
Nick. "Ready?"
"Ready," he replied, then reached into his bag. He pulled out a
bottle, and poured them both a glass of sustenance. They drank, looking
into one another's eyes, then left the room.
Nicholas just hated Alpha's "decor" he decided, as he and Natalie
made their way to Medical Center. He'd studied up on the base, of
course, while preparing for this new existence, but pictures hadn't
prepared him for the reality of it. Nat had been quite right. A real
fetish for plastic. Of course, one would hardly expect a lunar science
facility to sport plush carpet, redwood paneling, or planter boxes in
the corridors.
The place put him, somehow, in mind of his ancestral home, Castle
de Brabant. Claustrophobic and with uninspiring decor, it had
nonetheless been functional. Serving its intended purpose.
"Nick." No answer. "Nick!"
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Nat."
"You flash back somewhere, again?"
"Yeah, kind of. Sorry."
Nat pulled her commlock, and they entered the Medical Center. Make
that Centre he thought, upon seeing the sign. The first thing Nick
noticed was not the high-tech gear, not the ubiquitous electronics, but
the "click-clack" of a manual typewriter. Puzzled at hearing such a
sound in this place, he followed it...
To one of the absolute loveliest women he'd ever seen, sitting at
a table, typing on an old-fashioned Olivetti.
"Doctor Russell?" said Nat, and the blonde woman turned, looking
up at her.
"Natalie," she smiled, and stood. " I'm sorry I wasn't there to
greet your husband, but Commander Gorski had us in that bloody meeting
for practically ever." She stood up, and Natalie introduced them. She
took Nick's hand, and at once he could see that she noticed it. The
cooler flesh.
"I'm Helena Russell, CMO of Moonbase Alpha." She noticed Nick's
gaze, and understood the reason for it. Most men did that, upon first
meeting Helena. Her perfection of face and form had been known to
silence conversations, upon her entering a room. Not slow to trade upon
it, she'd even done some modeling to work her way through college.
"Nicholas Barber," said Nick, snapping out of it. "Glad to meet
you, Doctor Russell. Nat's told me so much about you."
"Well, your wife's reputation has preceded her, Doctor."
"Nick, please. I hate titles. Makes me sound like the Lord of the
Manor, or something." He studiously ignored Nat's stifled laugh.
"As long as you call me Helen then," smiled the CMO. "Your wife's
quite a find, Doc...Nick. For me."
"You? How so?"
"Well, her work for the Coroner's Office in Toronto, is well known
in certain circles."
Yes, thought Nick. Certain circles.
"Hopefully, there won't be any bodies to dissect up here," said
Nat, with a grimace.
"No, but your paper last year on hematology was brilliant. And the
work you've been doing the last couple of years, on bioengineering
blood replacements, has extremely important implications for future
space missions."
"Well all I'm doing", said Nat, looking from Helena to Nick, "is
trying to make people well."
"Both of you are," said Helena, turning to Nick. "Your work on the
new synthesizer technology promises to be as revolutionary for modern
medicine, Nick, as X-rays or anethstesia were for the 19th Century, or
cold fusion was for spacecraft propulsion systems, in our own era." She
went to the typewriter, slid the dust cover over it, and motioned them
to follow her. She noticed Nick's gaze. "I know. It is out of place,
isn't it?"
"Kind of," said Nick.
"My mother gave it to me, when I went off to medical school. I'm
just too old-fashioned to get rid of it."
"I know how you feel," said Nick. "I collect antiques, myself."
Nat almost succeeded in stifling another laugh.
"I'd love to have a look, sometime," said Helena, and led them to
their new lab.
"I didn't realize that you knew her," said Nick later, in the lab.
"Yes. I met her several years back at a medical convention.
Remember, I told you?"
"I'd forgotten, Nat," he replied, and they got down to work.
Natalie had been working on a blood substitute, free of the side-
effects of earlier varieties, ever since meeting Nick, that night in
her autopsy room, and coming to understand his condition. Now, applying
recent advances in bio-engineering technology to the problem, she was
closer than ever before to perfecting it.
For his part, Nick was putting his own not-inconsiderable skills,
accrued over centuries, to work, as well. The new synthesizer
technology, properly applied, promised a virtually unlimited supply of
the sustenance he required.
And Natalie too, now.
As he worked, Nick kept thinking back, to that night in Toronto.
Of Nat's entreaties, of his own reluctance, of the scent of her blood,
of her fear, as he pressed his fangs to her neck.
Then, he saw her again. Erica. Her image on one of his computer
screens.
"Nicholas. Nicholas," she said, voice thin and wavering. "You must
leave. Leave Alpha."
"Nick."
"Huh?" he said, snapping out of it. He looked back down. Erica was
gone, the screen filled only with scrolling data. "Oh. Doctor," he
said, turning towards the door.
"It's Helena. Remember? Commander Gorski would like you and your
wife to join him, in his quarters, for dinner."
"What time?" asked Nat.
"1800 hours, on the dot."
"Uh..." Nick began.
"We'll be there," said Nat. Helena left, and Nick turned to face
her.
"Do you know if he's a resister?"
"No. But we'll just... have to tell him the truth."
CHAPTER THREE
Anton Gorski, the eighth commander of Moonbase Alpha, was a man
entirely void of charm. That is not to say that he did not try. He was
extremely courteous towards his guests, especially Natalie. But the
easiness with which Helena, or even Captain Reese of the Toronto PD
interacted with others, was noticeably lacking in Gorski. Nick, who,
though it was the 13th Century, had been raised with the courtly graces,
felt a little sorry for the man. Here was someone very likeable, who
could be a friend in other circumstances, yet essentially nothing more
than an administrator. A CEO. A mechanic.
Gorski both noted, and commented on, their failure to eat. Of
course, he soon forgot all about that, remembering only how such
pleasant company they had been, how heartily they had partaken, and
both Barber’s unfortunate “food allergies”. What he did remember was
their intense interest in space travel, and the science involved
therewith. Nat's new blood substitute, and the synthesizer technology,
had revolutionary implications for long space missions, and Gorski was
of a mood to discuss this with them, in detail.
Basically, would it be available, by the time the Meta Probe was
to be launched, tentatively scheduled for October 1st? Neither were
certain, but promised Gorski that they would spare no effort.
"Ah, a full moon, tonight," said the sibilantly silky voice, over
the radio. A voice that Nicholas knew, all too well. At barely a
quarter-million miles from Earth, he could pick up almost any station,
and while Natalie was in the shower he tuned, as much out of habit as
of curiosity, to CERK, in Toronto. As usual, Lucien LaCroix was
regaling listeners with his gloomy, and sometimes ghoulish, ramblings.
"Don't you just love a full moon, My Children? Don't you? I know I
do. Do you not love it's light, the silvery radiance it sends washing
over us all, good and bad alike?"
"Especially bad," said Nick.
"On a night like this," continued LaCroix, "how wonderful it would
be, to go out into that silver-filled night, and run. Run with the
beasts, naked and free. Ah, yes. Would you like that, boys and girls?"
"I've done you one better," muttered Nick, who could just see his
Master's smile.
"Or, perhaps," the old vampire went on, "you've done better." Nick
started, at his Master's choice of words, for one fearful moment
wondering if LaCroix could read his mind. There had, through the
centuries, been times...
"Perhaps you are there," said LaCroix, "on that silver orb, even
now." He waited a beat. "Alpha," he said, the soft flow of air from his
lips seeming to almost caress the microphone. "That place, that
beachhead in the sky, from which the silver light descends. What is it
like, there, eh? Do you feel powerful, as though you were directing
that radiance? What, I ask, is this castle of knowledge, this bastion
of science, from which you think to solve the problems of the world?
Or, perhaps, your own? Hhmm? Is it not, for all its grandiose and
highflown promise, a fool's errand?"
Yes, thought Nick. LaCroix knew he was listening.
"What," asked LaCroix, "do you think to achieve, there? Solving
the problems of mankind? Fixing the world?" Then Nick noticed a subtil
change in LaCroix's voice, so subtil only another vampire might have
been able to perceive it.
"What," probed LaCroix, "do you think to cure? Some things, Gentle
Listeners, are immutable, beyond cure. Some things cannot be changed,
bathe ourselves in the moonbeams of science as we will. Oh, when will
some of us learn..."
Click.
Nick looked up, to see Natalie, hair still wet, wrapped in a robe,
standing over the radio, finger on the "off" button.
"I wish you'd stop listening to that," said Nat, nose crinkled in
disgust. "You know perfectly well it's aimed at you, Nick."
"Yeah," was Nick's limp reply.
"'Yeah'" replied Nat, a certain mocking in her voice. "Great
conversationalist. He's just trying to get you down, Nick. You know
that."
"Yes, but..."
"But zilch, Nick. We are close, and he knows it. He's getting
desperate, because he knows we're close." She doffed the robe, and
began to dress. "What did he have to say? On the way up?"
"Oh, just the usual," said Nick, rising. "How cruel I am, to
torment him this way. How foolish, how ungrateful. The usual."
"And?"
Sigh.
"And...how unfair to you."
"Me?" she said, turning around to lance him with a gaze.
"Yes. He told me I was cruel, trying to deny you the fulfillment
of your new nature."
"My new...what a total crock. He knows full well I hate..." She
stopped, settling down. "I'm sorry, Nick," she said, more gently,
taking hold of his hand. "I didn't mean it, that way."
"I know, Nat."
"It's just as my fault as yours, love," she said, looking up. "I
pushed you, and you..."
"Yeah, I did what I could, Nat. What I had to."
Nick stared at the mirror, and flashed back to the loft. One of
the few clear things, from the days following his encounter with Divia,
was of he, standing over Nat, trying desperately to save her. He
transfused the Type ONeg from her bag into her, tried to get saline
solution into her, tried to force water into her, the lot. But, by
dawn, he realized that it was hopeless. Natalie Lambert was slipping
away, brain and other vital organs shutting down. She was dying.
And there was only one way that he could save her.
"Nick," she said, weakly, looking up at him from the bed.
"Nick," she said again, more strongly, and he felt her squeeze his
hand. "Nicholas!"
"Huh? Oh, sorry."
"You zapped out on me again, love," she said, eye to eye.
"Yeah."
"Well, stay clear." She looked at the clock. "Almost time."
"For?"
"Poker. We're invited to a game, in the Zoref's quarters."
"Oh, right. I'd forgotten."
"Uh huh," she shook her head. "Sheesh! My hero. Anyway, it'll be
Anton and Eva, Dave Kano, Ouma, maybe, and Verdeschi, from Security."
"Then let's get going, Nat."
"Oh, and," she added, rising, "Professor Bergman might drop in, he
said."
"Sounds like a full house, already, then," quipped Nick, and after
a little extra sustenance he led the way out.
Nick had played far too many games of chance, over the centuries,
to be taken in by anyone's deceptions, and could maintain a "poker
face" like no one else. As they played, he studied his fellow
"Alphans".
David Kano, a big Jamaican, lived, ate slept, and breathed
computers. There seemed to be nothing about the machines that he did
not know. From the earliest attempts before World War II, to the latest
in microprocessors, he had an encyclopedic knowledge of his subject.
Or, rather, his craft, for David Kano absolutely, unquestionably,
unreservedly loved tinkering with the base's mainframe. Always finding
ways to get more speed out of it, to put more memory into it, whatever.
Obviously, Kano and his people would be invaluable in developing the
synthesizer technology.
Anton Zoref was a specialist in the base’s power systems, working
in one of Alpha's nuclear generating stations. As thoroughly versed in
his stuff as Kano was in his, he did, however, have the ability to talk
about something beyond control rods, fuel bundles, and reactor
containment vessels. A fairly quiet man, Nick at once found himself
liking Zoref, along with his wife, whose hostessing gave these quarters
a graciousness mostly lacking on the base.
Antonio Verdeschi, head of Alpha Security, was lean, dark-haired,
good-looking, and talkative. No, make that verbose. By the end of the
first hour, Nick and Nat knew the names of his parents, his brother,
his schools, the street in Florence he'd lived on, the original owner
of the house, the number of the house, his first girlfriend, his second
girlfriend, his hobbies, ad infinitum. Nick noted his almost total lack
of an Italian accent, explained by several years at English
Universities.
"Your Italian is very good," said Verdeschi, after Nick had
addressed him in that language. "Where did you pick it up?"
"Oh, I've spent a little time in Italy. The Po Valley can be so
pleasant in summer. Don't you agree?" he asked, sparing a glance at
Natalie. He'd noticed that Verdeschi had been giving Nat far too much
attention, during the evening. Of course, he could hardly blame the
fellow, being totally besotted by Nat himself. But, he did feel more
than a little jealous, and decided he would have to keep an eye on
Verdeschi.
Besides, there was something in the way Verdeschi spoke to him,
that made him uneasy. Could he, perhaps...
Knock it off, Nick, he told himself. He's a cop. Remember what
it's like?
"...so weird," said Zoref, as Nick returned to the game.
"Who?" asked Kano.
"That fellow on the radio," replied Zoref. "From Canada. Calls
himself the Nightcrawler. Ever listen to him?"
"I've...heard him, once or twice," said Nick. "Weird bird."
"I'll say," Zoref went on. "Tonight he was ripping on us, up
here."
"Really?" asked Nat, deadpan.
"Yes," said Eva. "I've heard him before. He's terribly morbid,
that one."
"But tonight, he was slamming Alpha," said Anton. "And he was
talking almost as though he knew someone, here." Zoref turned to
Verdeschi. "Did you hear?"
"Me? I don’t go in for the Rush Limbaugh stuff. No, I only listen
to music," replied Verdeschi. "The news and talk stuff is way too
depressing."
"The people who call in to his show are as weird as he is," said
Eva, when there was a beep. It was Professor Bergman, on the commpost.
He was admitted, and introduced.
"Oh, yes," said the old Academic. "I have heard him, once or
twice." He smiled, shaking his head. "Once, there was a man who claimed
his friend was a vampire." Nick and Nat shared a look, but did not
laugh. Nick had not known that any of that conversation had actually
gone out, over the air. And, right now, he did not want to dredge up
memories of his old partner, Donald Schanke. Not...
"And how goes the Meta Probe, Professor?" asked Natalie.
Good save, thought Nick.
"Oh, splendidly," said Bergman, and from there on it was
spacecraft, physics, et al. All the while, though, something was
bothering Nick. Bergman. He was...familiar? How? Perhaps...
Merde! he swore to himself.
"What is it, Nick?" asked Nat, later, as they settled down.
"Bergman," he replied.
"The Professor? You've met him before, then."
"Yeah. Back in...'61."
"When you were Forrester?"
"Yes. He gave a lecture, on space propulsion. I was curious, and
sat in. He was only 21, Nat, but he was brilliant. Absolutely."
"And you spoke with him?"
"I did. For over two hours. I can still remember how impressed I
was, by his keen mind. His complete, utter grasp of the concepts, Nat.
It's no wonder he was practically abducted by NASA, for the Gemini and
Apollo programs."
"You think perhaps he remembers you?"
"I'm not sure. He did look at me, quite a few times."
"Why didn't you consider him, when planning this life?"
"I...there are still a few things that are fuzzy, Nat, after that
bullet in the head. I still run across gaps, now and then. I guess he
was one of them."
"Well, I hear he's scheduled to be rotated off Alpha, soon," said
Nat. "So let's hope he won't be a problem."
"Amen to that, Nat," said Nick, and put a hand on her shoulder.
She responded, turning burning eyes to him, and pulling him to her.
On the Dark Side, just beyond the area always visible from Earth,
another Eagle was putting down, at Nuclear Waste Disposal Area Two. The
crew began to unload their deadly cargo, as they had many a time
already. Only this time...
This time the pilot, Praeger, didn't feel so good. Damned
headache...
CHAPTER FOUR
Nick spent the next couple of days avoiding Bergman. Being buried
in the lab, working with Natalie, it was fairly easy. As he chewed
through some computations, Nat was deep into yet another chemical
experiment. In fact he was so engrossed that he did not notice when
Doctor Mathais entered, and began discussing some analyses with Nat.
Nick liked Robert Mathias, the base's other black physician. Like
all the medical staff here he was hyper competent, but he had a bedside
manner almost the equal of Helena Russell's, and was cool under
pressure.
"Nicholas," said a voice. He froze as the screen before him,
filled with computations moments before, now showed only Erica. She was
looking straight at him.
"Er..."
"Nicholas, please," said she, "you must leave. Alpha is not safe,
beloved Nicholas. You must leave soon."
"Erica, what are you talking about?" Even as he spoke, Nick felt
the temperature drop around him. "What danger?"
For a moment, Erica, the lab, and everything else disappeared, and
Nick saw only light. Blinding white light, so strong it hurt even his
eyes.
"Nick?" came a voice. "Nick?" again, and he was back in the lab,
at his station. He looked up, and saw Mathias for the first time. "Are
you alright, Doctor Barber?"
"Nick, you zoned out there, for a minute," said Nat, coming over.
"You okay?" she mouthed, out of view of Mathias. He nodded, ever so
perceptibly. Already, the chill had gone. Had the others felt it, too?
"Just a headache, Nat. Staring at that screen for too long." He
noted her raised eyebrow, and understood it. She had felt it. And,
asked a question. He nodded again. "I'm alright," he said, looking at
Mathias. "I..."
He was interrupted by a loud crash, in the next ward, then a
blaring security alarm. As one, the three ran for the next room, to
find a fight in full swing. Doctor Vincent was struggling with another
man, his back bent over a chair, the attacker's hands around his
throat.
"Out!" he was snarling, as he tried to choke the life out of the
other man. "Have to get out!"
Without thinking, Nick leapt into action, with a vampire’s speed.
He pulled the other man off Vincent, hurling him into the far wall. As
Nat and Mathias moved to the aid of their fellow doctor, Nick kept his
attention on the attacker.
"Mon Dieu!" he swore, as he saw the man's face. He'd not only
gotten back up quickly, far too quickly considering, but his face...!
Particularly his eyes. His right eye was clouded over, almost
opaque, as if he had cataracts. The flesh around it was livid, like
raw, open burn tissue, and he was sweating. His expression was one of
pure, mindless desperation.
"Out," he rasped, moving towards a window. "Must get out." He
began to claw at the window, madly trying to get through it. Nick lay
hands on him, only to find himself thrown off with a strength that
surprised him, from a mortal. Then, the attacker leapt upon him, trying
to strangle him as well. "Out! Have to get out of here!"
Faced with such a threat, Nick's nature came out. Eyes blazing, he
hurled the attacker away. He sailed across the ward, into the opening
door through which security was was just entering. His head struck the
edge of the door with a sickening crack, and he sprawled out, into the
corridor, twitched a moment, then lay still.
There was a round of "you alright?"s, then one of the security men
turned the corpse over.
"My God," said Verdeschi, as he saw the ravaged face. "It's
Praeger!"
"It was totally justifiable," said Verdeschi, in the Commander's
office. The report on Praeger was on Gorski's desk. The Commander, as
usual cheerless, was still reading.
"Do we know why he suddenly went berserk?" asked Gorski. "Prager's
record is exemplary, Tony."
"No. Doctor Russell is doing a post-mortem right now, Commander."
"Doctor Vincent?" asked Gorski. "Anything?"
"No, sir,” replied Vincent. “Praeger had his annual physical the
first of this month. He checked out a hundred percent. Psych profile,
too."
"Why was he in Medical, today?"
"He was complaining of headaches, Commander. When I looked at him,
he was beginning to sweat, then he suddenly attacked me. If Doctor
Barber hadn't intervened..."
"We must all thank Doctor Barber," said Gorski, returning to
Verdeschi's report. "Have you anything to add, Doctor?" he asked Nick.
"Nothing, Commander. I only met Praeger once, a week or so ago. He
came to the Zoref’s weekly poker game."
"I see," said Gorski, leaning back in his chair. He reached out,
and hit one of the buttons on his console. "Medical."
"Doctor Mathais here."
"Anything yet, Robert?"
"No, Commander. Doctors Russell and Barber are still in the
autopsy."
"Very well." He clicked off.
"Commander," said Verdeschi, rising. "I have to go and file this
report."
"Wait," said Gorski, holding out a hand.
"Sir?" asked Verdeschi, half-risen.
"Hold off, till we have the results of the post-mortem."
"But, sir..."
"Hold off," said the Commander.
"Radiation?" asked Gorski, later, in the autopsy room.
"It looks like it," said Helena. On the table, Praeger was laid
out, open and unappealing. "Here," she indicated, pointing to an angry
red mass, in Praeger's brain. Gorski turned away for a moment, from the
dismantled body.
"What is it?"
"Some sort of malignancy," said Nat, getting the nod from Helena.
"The cells show a pattern of damage similar to that caused by
radiation, but that's all we've got, so far."
"What about drugs, or some kind of infection?" asked Gorski.
"The tox screen was negative," said Natalie. "No signs of viral or
bacterial infection, yet."
"And there was nothing in Praeger's history to indicate this,"
Helena added. "No history of drugs, or illness. Nothing in his family.”
She shook her head. “Nothing."
"Till now," said Gorski. He went to the commpost. "Professor
Bergman."
"Commander?"
"I want a team from your section to check out Area Two, bow to
stern. Any signs of radiation, Professor. Any at all."
"Right away, Commander."
"I don't understand it, Nick," said Nat, in their quarters. "It
looked like a malignant brain tumor. But how something like that could
erupt so suddenly..." she shrugged.
"You'll figure it out, Nat," replied Nick. "You always do."
"Well, I have very little experience with radiation, Nick. Doctor
Russell is the expert, there."
"Then you'll figure it out, together." He fell silent, and Nat
stared at him.
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Don't you 'huh' me, Nicholas de Brabant. You...you're thinking
about it, aren't you?"
"What?"
"Erica, and her visitations, and don't tell me you aren't."
"Well, yeah. Some."
"Some," sighed Nat. "Nick, it is almost the 21st Century! The age
of science. That sort of supersti…”"
"She was right, Nat. Danger up here."
"We are on the moon, Nick. Space. Space travel is inherently
dangerous. You just..."
"I did not imagine it, Nat. Imagine her. I know you don't believe
in ghosts..." He noticed her expression, a dark memory. Nat had tried,
many a time, to rationalize away the "visitation" of her grandmother's
shade. She was still trying.
"Well", she said, deftly shifting the subject, "the inquest is
tomorrow. Can't be avoided, Nick."
"Well, Nat, I killed someone. It has to be done."
"And, saved a life, too, don’t forget. Maybe more than one. That
counts for something, Nick. And Verdeschi's security report looks good
for you. We'll come through."
"You saw his report, Nat? It's..."
"Yeah, well," she shrugged, all innocence. "When you've got it,
you've got it, Nick."
"Nat, you didn't."
Natalie only smiled.
I came here, Nick told himself, to get away from trouble. So what
do I do? I get involved with a death. I cause a death, and now I'm
sitting in an inquest. Great job, de Brabant. First rate all around.
Not that this was exactly Terra Obscura for Nick. As Lord of
Castle de Brabant, he'd had the duty of administering justice in his
demesne, and had presided over inquests and trials, passing sentence on
others. As a cop in both Chicago and Toronto, he'd testified in court.
However, being on the receiving end was definitely not to his liking.
It tended to draw too much attention to himself.
Verdeschi's report was straightforward. Praeger had gone berserk,
and tried to kill Doctor Vincent. Nick had come to the Doctor's
defense, and Praeger had, unfortunately, died in consequence. Of a
cranial fracture, resulting from his impact with the edge of the door.
Nick's apparently superhuman strength was explained by a "surge of
adrenaline", in time of stress. The cause of Praeger’s outburst
remained unknown.
The verdict was as expected. Justifiable homicide on Nick's part,
period. No action to be taken against him. All Doctor Russell could say
was that the cause of Praeger's outburst remained unknown. The search
would continue.
All through it, however, Nick was aware of Verdeschi's eyes on
him. Vincent's, too. Verdeschi looked suspicious, like a cop. Vincent's
look was more...puzzled. Had he seen something, in the struggle?
Obviously, he and Nat would have to keep an eye on both of them.
Next day, the report came back from Bergman's team. No radiation
leakage from Area Two. Not so much as a neutron out of place. Where
then, wondered everyone, had the radiation come from, to cause
Praeger's illness? His Eagle was checked out, too. Clean. So were
Alpha's generating stations. Where, then?
But there were no answers forthcoming, and life on Alpha returned,
sort of, to normal. Nick and Nat got back to working on their projects,
and everything seemed to be just fine.
"They say the moon causes madness," came LaCroix’s voice, over
Nick's radio. "Perhaps, My Children. Perhaps this is true. Perhaps that
silvery radiance does bend men's minds. Warps them in ways that
confound us."
"Do you think..." began Nat, listening.
"After all, haven't we all heard how crime increases, with the
waxing of the moon? Theft. Rape. Even murder. Do we not, have we not,
from time immemorial, Gentle Listeners, called it lunacy?"
Nick could practically see the smile on his Master's face, as he
spoke. LaCroix knew, yes. But how? By order of Commander Gorski, the
report on Praeger had yet to be sent to LSRO headquarters. Even the
man's family knew only that he had died in an accident. Nothing more.
How, then...
"Perhaps, My Children," continued the ancient vampire, "she is
jealous?
"Oh, God," groaned Natalie.
"Jealous of those who have violated her sanctuary, who have probed
her secrets." He sighed. "But, what do we, mere Earthbound mortals,
know of such things, eh? Tell me, you out there. Tell me what you
think, what you know. I'm ready, for I am...the Nightcrawler."
"He knows, Nick," said Nat. "He knows about Praeger. But how?
Gorski's put a lid on it, for the moment."
"You're right, Nat. I don't know how, but you're right."
During Alpha's "middle of the night", few were about. That, and
Nick's unnatural speed, made getting to the main security office easy.
The man on duty asked what he wanted, then quickly forgot that anyone
had wanted anything at all.
Verdschi's desk was a snap, and so was his terminal. All those
lessons, Nick decided, from Aristotle and Larry Merlin, had paid off.
"Accessed?" asked Nat, later. “Someone hacked in?”
"Yeah. Someone got in, got a look, and sent the information off,
privately."
"Who?"
"The guy on duty doesn't know, hon. He was bribed to be away from
his post for an hour, last night."
"By whom?"
"He doesn't know, but he took the deal. I used the computer to do
some checking, back home. A large deposit was made to his account, day
before yesterday, Nat."
"You think LaCroix bribed him?" she asked. "Why?"
"Like always, Nat. He'll do anything to stop me from leaving him,
for good. From becoming Human, again. You said it yourself, he's
desperate. Somehow, he's gotten his claws into someone here, to keep
tabs on me, for anything he might be able to use."
"To set you up, like he did in Toronto?"
"Very possibly. Damn it!"
"I wish he'd stayed dead when you staked him, Nick. That...man
annoys the hell out of me."
"Me too, Nat."
"I'd love nothing better than to do his autopsy," she grinned,
evilly. "So, what are you going to do? About the guard?"
"Nothing I can do, Nat. I expose him, I expose myself. But," he
smiled, "I...might induce him to change jobs."
"Huh?"
Everyone was surprised when Security Officer Arlen Edison up and
requested transfer, the next day. More concerned with the Meta Probe,
and the recent death, than with mundane personnel matters, Commander
Gorski gave it immediate approval. Verdeschi was surprised, but could
do nothing.
From time to time, base personnel could request time in Alpha's
commsuite, to send or receive personal messages. Nick availed himself
of such, at last connecting with LaCroix.
"Nicholas? I'm flattered you..."
"Stop it, LaCroix," said Nick, using the archaic French of his
childhood. "I know all about the bribed guard, and the information that
was sent you." Not true. Nick had not been able to learn where the file
had been transmitted. The logs had been wiped. But the money transfer
had been from a Canadian bank.
"Nicholas, I assure you that I have done no such things. My word,
Nicholas," said the old vampire.
"Why don't I believe you, LaCroix?"
"Really, Nicholas. You must overcome this cynicism of yours," said
LaCroix, with the hint of a smile. A mocking smile. "Every time you
have a problem, you blame me. A child cannot blame a parent forever, my
boy. You really need to grow up, Nicholas."
Nick heard no more, for he cut the connection with a grunt of
disgust. The lying old reprobate! Can't tell the truth for five minutes
straight. Maybe he'd needed that, on the floor of the Roman Senate, or
in the Palace of Vespasian, but not between them. Father and Son.
Teacher and Pupil. Maker and Creation.
Master and Slave!
Liar!
Nick tried to shake off his irritation at LaCroix, and returned to
his lab. He was having trouble, getting the emitter diodes to stay in
phase. On his off-time, Zoref lent aid, and soon the two were deep into
it. So much so that Nick didn't hear Dr. Vincent calling to him.
"Sorry?"
Ben Vincent had invited he and Nat to dinner in his quarters, with
Alibe, his current significant other. Nick wanted to say no, but
Vincent wished to show his appreciation, and Nick could hardly
"boozle" him in front of witnesses.
"See you tomorrow, Nick," said Zoref, heading towards the door.
"I'll get these computations to Professor Bergman's lab." He waved a
sheaf of papers.
"Right, Anton. I think we've nearly licked it." He turned back to
the medico, as Zoref left. "Okay. I'll tell Natalie. Twenty-hundred?"
"Right."
At that moment, down in the hangar bay, one of the Eagle pilots
had a serious fall, breaking both legs, and receiving a hairline
fracture of the skull. Sent home to Earth the next afternoon, he was
immediately replaced by one Alan Carter, late of the Royal Australian
Air Force.
Doctor Vincent knew of Nick's dietary limitations. Well, most of
them. The sight of normal food, even after years of trying, could still
make his stomach heave, but he hid it manfully. Natalie, still new to
this, often experimented with various foods, though never in front of
mortals.
A rare pleasure on Alpha was meat, and dairy products. Most of the
base's food was produced in the hydroponics section. Cereal grains and
a wide variety of vegetables, with an average of three new ones added
each month, aside from what was grown in the protein tanks. Meat was
shipped up, on a regular basis, though never in large quantities. There
were plans, on paper at least, to turn one of the projected new
sections into a sort of lunar stockyard, and raise livestock here, on
the moon. However, nothing had been done about the proposal as yet, and
with Simmonds putting the pressure on, over the Meta Probe, it would
likely be a long time before anyone did.
But, tonight, Dr. Vincent was Chef Vinson', and he treated Alibe
Kurand, a lovely black lady from Technical, to a rare feast. Out of
politeness (and a well-honed sense of self-preservation), Nick and Nat
both partook of wine (red, of course), and even managed to make it look
as if they were actually enjoying the soup.
All through it, however, Nick was aware of Vincent’s reticence. He
wanted to talk about...something. Though the death of Praeger was still
on everyone's lips, it was clear that the medico was concerned with
another matter. Then, when Alibe excused herself...
"I...saw your eyes," said Vincent, under Nick's hypnotic power.
"How can this..."
"No. You saw nothing out of the ordinary," said Nat, staring into
his. "A trick of the light. That was all it..."
She broke off, as Alibe returned. Vincent blinked, and rubbed his
eyes.
"Hi", said the eternally ebullient Alibe. "Everyone miss me?"
"Of course," said Nat, then fell to telling her about her work on
blood replacement technology. After a moment or two, Vincent seemed
himself again, and joined in as if nothing untoward had happened.
CHAPTER FIVE
It had been a long time, since Nick had been a teacher, but he
found himself falling back into that roll, easily. The students that
had transported up to Alpha with him were still here, all High School
achievers, headed for careers in the sciences. Nick, suddenly missing
his days as a college prof, fell easily into explaining the ins and out
of his project, as they toured the medical labs. The give and take with
the kids felt good, it made him feel good. Clean. Better.
I was never a vampire in my heart, he said to himself. Not really.
Not truly. He looked up at one student, a girl about 16 or so, and...
"Don't be such a fool, Nicholas," said LaCroix, lips stained red,
looking up from the victim he had just feasted upon. "You are. And you
always were."
"No, LaCroix," said Nick, face wrinkled in disgust. "I will go
hungry, before I stain myself with such dishonor." He turned his back
on his Master.
"Pot calling the kettle black, Nicholas," smiled LaCroix, rolling
the corpse off into an overgrown ditch. "You cast away your so-called
honor long ago, if you will remember. When you accepted my offer."
“She helped me, LaCroix," spat Nick, furious. "She found me, and
gave me aid. At her own risk. And she asked for nothing." His last word
was cut off by an explosion.
"You are immortal, Nicholas. You require no mortal aid. You would
have reviv..."
"That does not change the facts, LaCroix. Her heart was filled
with goodness and charity, and I promised her my help, in return for
hers."
"She was filled with blood, Nicholas," replied LaCroix, "and
promises are like pie crusts. Made to be broken." There was the whistle
of a projectile, and a deafening burst of flame not ten yards away.
"And speaking of broken, Nicholas, we had best be going, before
Napoleon's artillery breaks us." With that, the elder vampire took to
the air. Nicholas lingered a moment, casting a last glance to where the
nameless refugee who had come to the aid of a stranger lay dead.
"Never in my heart," he whispered. "I swear it." He cursed
LaCroix, then another blast and the approach of horses decided him, and
he followed his Master skywards.
"Nicholas," said a voice, and he snapped back to the here and now.
He turned, blinking, and saw Nat, next to one of the students.
"Doctor Barber?" said one of them.
"Oh. Ah, yes?"
"Are you alright?" asked the girl, named Sally Martin, from her
badge.
"Oh, yes. Fine. Just mulling through a problem with...the memory
buffer on the unit, is all." Natalie caught his use of the word, and
realized its meaning.
"And she reminds you of this girl, Nick?" asked Nat, later, as
they walked back to their quarters.
"Yes. She...she found me, shot through, several times, by the side
of the road."
"When?"
"Italy,1796. Castiglione, during Napoleon's campaign. She didn't
know what I was till I revived. I blanked her mind. But she brought me
water. She risked herself, to help another refugee. No questions."
"Guess you should have ducked," grinned Nat. "How'd they nail you,
by the way?"
"I found some soldiers, one of Napoleon's advance foraging
parties, raping and murdering at a farmstead. I took them all. Or, I
thought I had. I couldn't help the victims they'd killed, but I could
punish their murderers, Nat."
"Once again, My Hero," said Nat, with a snort. "Always..."
"Hey, it's...part of the process, Nat. Anyway, I staggered into
the woods, with at least three shots through me. She found me, and
helped me, and I promised her that I'd help her to escape."
"Then Sir Sweetness and Light turned up."
"Hungry," nodded Nick. “How’d you know?”
"He always does, at the wrong moment." They arrived, and Nat
pulled her commlock, and opened the door. She turned, and looked at the
commpost outside. "Yeah."
"What?" asked Nick.
"I am putting a planter box around that thing. This base's decor
is ugly enough, without having any houseplants." She turned, and they
went on inside.
"She just reminded me of that girl is all, Nat. And I'm sure
LaCroix is lying." He plopped into a chair, and exhaled loudly.
"Another week, Nat. Another week, and the synthesizer will be ready.
I'm certain of it."
"Well, a tad more bioengineering, and the synthetic blood will be
el-perfecto, Nick. In fact," she said, and pulled a flask from her bag,
"here's some from the current batch."
"You sure?"
"Try it. Chateau B127-F. Yummy for the vampiric tummy." They
opened the flask, and he sipped. It sure tasted close to the real
thing. After a few moments, Nick could feel the energy from it, begin
to spread through him.
"Close, Nat. Really close. I can feel it."
"Can Natalie cook, or what, huh? The Lambert touch shows through,
every time." She sipped some herself. "Hhmm. Needs iron."
"Well, no rusty nails, okay?" he grinned. She laughed, and they
fell into each other's arms, devoured by a quite different energy,
oblivious to all but each other. Barely had the crucial moment passed,
when Nat's commlock bleeped. It was Helena.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. I..."
"Don't worry about it, Helena. What's up?"
"We've had another one."
"Faber?" asked Nat.
"Yes. He went berserk, down in the Eagle bay, not half an hour
ago," said Helena.
"The same symptoms as before?" asked Gorski.
"Yes. One of the other pilots had to stun him. We got him in here,
but he died, just after I called you, Commander."
"I see." Gorski turned to Verdeschi. "Get me Faber's file. Doctor
Russell, I want an immediate autopsy. The fullest possible range of
tests. Bring me the results, regardless of the hour."
"Right away." Helena looked at Nat. "Shall we?"
Beep.
"Yes?" said Gorski, activating his commlock.
"Commissioner Simmonds on the line for you, Commander Gorski,"
said Sandra Benes, from Main Mission.
"Very well," sighed Gorski. "I'll take it in my office."
Like Praeger's, Faber's autopsy showed only the mysterious
eruption in the brain. No drugs, no history of illness, nothing. The
slides and sections of the malignancy were compared to the earlier
samples. The same.
"Well?" Nick asked, once Nat returned from the post-mortem.
"The same Nick, and still no clues. We're no closer to figuring
out why, than we were before."
"Doctor Russell said something about radiation?"
"Yeah, but there isn't any. True, the malignant cells show a
pattern similar to heavily radiated tissue, but the rest of his tissues
were healthy, Nick. Liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys. The lot. Absolutely
A-One."
"No connections, at all?"
"Well, aside from the fact that both were shuttle pilots, no.
Praeger was born in Germany, Faber was from Oklahoma. They’d never even
met, till they were assigned to Alpha."
Nick nodded, then sat back, thinking. Was this the danger Erica
had spoken of? If some bizarre disease was on the loose, could it
affect them? Once, vampires had thought themselves impervious to any
and all maladies. Screed's gruesome death, from an experimental virus
escaped from the lab, had shaken that assumption. What if...?
Beep.
"Barber," said Nick, activating his commlock.
"Doctor Barber, Gorski, here. Could you come and see me?"
Nick did not like it, but there was a new directive from HQ. All
Alpha personnel, regardless of duty, were to undergo basic flight
training, and familiarization with Eagle systems. He'd have to at least
pass the basics, on flying one of them.
He could, of course, "whammy" Gorski, but not all of Alpha, the
computer, or the folks back home. He would have to, for now at least,
go along with it.
Damn.
The reason, said Gorski, was simple. Last year, while scanning the
southern pole for water ice, an Eagle had been hit by a meteorite. The
pilot had been badly hurt, the co-pilot killed. The geologist, computer
tech, and the doctor aboard, had all lacked even basic familiarity with
the ship's systems, and the Eagle, it had turned out, had still been
flyable, barely, on auxiliary power. By the time all was said and done,
the pilot and one passenger were dead as well.
So, flight training, and basic systems instruction, for all
personnel. It was an annoying delay, in Nick's grander scheme, but he'd
been through enough identities to know that you did what you had to do,
to fit in.
Then, of course, it got complicated.
Alan Carter, newly assigned to Alpha, was put in charge of the
program. He met his students, in the hangar bay, and went over an
Eagle, stem to stern. Cockpit, passenger module, engines, landing gear,
the lot. He also kept looking at Nick, while he talked. This time, for
Nick, there was no doubt, no fuzziness, no uncertainties of memory.
Everything was quite brutally clear.
He knew Alan Carter.
Shit.
Carter was a born instructor, and had the patience needed to teach
those not inclined by nature to be pilots. Nick was soon versed in the
throttles, attitude controls, navigational interface, and ejection
seats. Then, it was his turn to go up with Carter.
He watched the launch pad, and then the base, drop away beneath
them as Eagle 9 lifted off pad four. Soon, under Carter's expert
tutelage, he was flying her himself.
"Nick," said Carter, as they flew over the Mare Crisium.
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing here? On Alpha?"
"What do you mean? I'm a doctor..."
"Now you are, but...No, three degrees left," said Carter, and Nick
followed his direction. He banked, and her nose swung directly into
the...
Sun.
CHAPTER SIX
Carter heard the pained intake of breath, followed by a long cry
of pain, and the ship banked suddenly. Nick had violently jerked away,
as a shaft of raw sunlight lanced through the forward window, striking
him in the face.
"Nick, what the..." began Carter, grasping the sticks, and
regaining control of the Eagle. He pulled up, regaining altitude, and
looked over at his student. "Oh my God!"
Nick's face was red, raw, with skin and subcutaneous tissues
peeling off, from hairline to chin, on the left side. His eye was red
and swollen nearly shut, blood running from the socket, and his teeth
were clenched in pain, as thick vapor rose from his seared flesh. He
turned away from Carter, clutching his face with white knuckles.
"Nick? What the hell is..."
"I...reaction to sun….."
"Reaction, hell! Your face is falling off, Nick." He checked the
instruments, and put the Eagle on autopilot. He was about to reach for
the commlink, but a powerful hand grasped his wrist.
"No," said Nick.
"Hey, I..."
"No." Nick turned to face Carter. He looked at him, and pressed a
thought. "No call. You did not see this," said Nick, hypnotic powers to
the full, focusing his good eye on him. Even as he spoke, his left eye
socket slowly stopped bleeding, and his raw flesh started to close.
"I..."
"Nothing happened," said Nick, but Carter blinked.
"Like hell, Doctor. If that's your real name. Last time I saw you,
it wasn't Barber. It was Knight. Detective Nicholas Knight of the
Toronto PD"
Damnation, thought Nick. A resister.
"I haven't forgotten what you did for me, Detective."
Nat met them at the hatch of travel tube 4, and slid in before
Carter could exit. She took a look at Nick, and swore.
"The sun came through the cockpit window," said Carter. He watched
as Nick drank from the flask Nat handed him. At once, the healing of
his flesh accelerated noticeably, and Carter swore.
"It's a special medication, for his condition," said Nat, voice
sounding lame in her ears. "He's highly phototropic."
"Yeah," said Carter. He watched, fascinated, as Nick's skin healed
over at a rate he would never have thought possible, and his eye
regained its natural color. "Some medicine," said Carter, sniffing the
air. He cast knowing glances at the two vampires.
"Captain Carter, it..."
"Yeah, right," he said, and exited the travel tube, leaving them
alone.
"He knows. Nick, he knows. Ah, bloody hell!"
"Yeah."
After a few minutes, Nick was healed enough to move through the
corridors, and they headed for their quarters. As they moved, sight
slowly began to return to his savaged eye. No sooner were they there,
then the door beeped. They both tensed, ready...
It was Carter.
Like it or not.
"Captain, you must..." began Nat.
"I haven't told anyone," said Carter. "I just logged off, and came
here." He sat, and looked at them. Especially Nicholas, who had a cool
cloth over his left eye. Nick looked at Nat, and resumed his story.
"It was right after the Jerry Show murders," he told her. "Tracy
and I were assigned to security at an airshow."
"Oh yeah," said Nat. "I remember. Didn't terrorists try and take
it over, or something?"
"They did," said Carter. "Islamic Fundamentalists, the Hezbollah I
believe they were, planned to steal as many planes as possible, and
crash them, kamikaze style, into all the major buildings in Washington
D.C. They tried to steal mine."
"I recall, yes," said Nat. "They took hostages, and shot up one of
the buildings at the airport."
"I took a round," said Carter, "and Nick here saved my life. I
don't know how he did it, but he took out the two who were guarding me,
got me to a medic, and got back in time to keep the terrorists from
carrying out their plan."
Indeed he had. One of the terrorists had succeeded in getting
airborne, but so had a certain vampire. Clinging to the screaming
aircraft, Nick had punched through the canopy, and yanked the terrified
fellow out. He had drained the would-be killer while still airborne,
and dropped the corpse into Lake Ontario, moments after the F-15 plowed
into the water, blowing itself to bits. Of course, all the world knew
was that the plane had gone down, and the decomposing corpse had washed
up a week later. End of story.
"Don't give me too much credit," said Nick, pulling the cloth
away, and blinking. "You were the one who smelled something wrong with
the guy near the utility closet, and sounded the alarm. If you hadn't,
well, it would have been alot different."
"So, what are you doing here, on Alpha?" asked Carter. "A Doctor?"
"I...had to go into the witness protection program," said Nick. "I
testifi..."
"Don't give me that. That's alot of bull." Carter looked at him.
"I know what you are," he said quietly. For several seconds, there was
utter silence.
"Then you should know to stay away," was Nick's reply.
"You never eat. You can't endure the sun. And that medication..."
He stressed the word. "I know the smell of blood. Believe you me.”
Carter waited several beats. “You're a vampire."
More silence.
"Nick, I..."
"I tried, Nat. He's a resister."
"You can't make me forget," said Carter. "And on Alpha, there's no
place to hide."
"What do you intend to do?" asked Nat. If hypnotism were of no
use, then perhaps...
"Nothing," said Carter. "Nick saved my life, Doctor. I don't ever
forget that. Maybe it's his own fault, what he is. Maybe not. But
whichever, no one's going to hear it from Alan Carter."
"My thanks," said Nick, now totally healed. He reached for a
bottle, and poured a glass. "I won't ask you to join me, Captain."
"Where..."Carter indicated the red liquid.
"Brought with us, from Earth," said Nat. "In fact, it's cow's
blood. No one on Alpha is in any danger from us, Captain.
"Us? Ah, I see. And that's the real reason you're working on this
blood substitute research, right? So you won’t have to…hunt.”
"Yes. I...I hate what I am, Captain. My greatest desire for
centuries has been to become Human, once again."
"Is that even possible?" asked Carter. “Reversing it?”
"We think so," said Nat. "We've identified what it is that makes
Nick...makes us, what we are. We've come close a few times. We're
getting closer."
"I see. And in man's most advanced research facilities..." He
nodded, then stood. "I have to go check on something, Doctors. We'll
talk again."
"Fine," said Nick, "but..."
"I want to hear more."
"Captain."
"You tell me your vampire story, Detective, and I'll tell you
mine." He gave them both a meaningful look, then left them alone. The
two vampires just sat, looking at each other.
"Can we trust him, Nick?"
"I think so, yes," said Nick, after a long pause. "I remember
Carter from the airshow. He struck me as a straight sort, Nat."
"His being a resister kind of makes it a moot point, anyway."
"Yeah, but think, Nat. Someone is keeping tabs on us, for LaCroix.
We could use an ally up here, Nat. Maybe this was a blessing in
disguise."
Across the base, in the Security Office, Tony Verdeschi was
searching through a number of databases, looking further into the
backgrounds of certain base personnel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Something about Alan Carter put Nicholas at his ease. Much to his
own surprise, he found this to be one mortal to whom he could open up.
It felt good, suddenly, to speak about his past without fear, or the
urge to hide.
"I was a Knight of the Cross", said Nick.
"A Crusader?” asked Carter.
“Yes,” nodded Nick. “Returning home in the Year Of Our Lord 1228.
I stopped in Paris…" For the next few hours he continued, unfolding the
sad and melancholy tale of 800 years. Carter listened, with both
fascination and with horror, as the deeds, and the misdeeds, of Nick's
death were laid before him.
Nat found herself surprised, as she listened. Some of the events
she had never heard, or gathered only bits and pieces of. And she had
learned early on, vampires do not indulge in true confessions. Those
mortals who learned the truth, however it had happened, usually had
only two options set before them. They were either "invited" to join
the Night Shift, or they could contract a rapidly progressing form of
anemia.
But here was Nicholas de Brabant, vampire, letting it all hang
out, as if he were merely chatting over tea with his favorite auntie.
Had Nick just had enough of his endless, furtive skulking, Nat
wondered, or did he have a deeper design?
"So two years ago, I resigned from the Toronto PD," Nick finished
up, "and began to work on a new identity. This one."
"What made you think of Alpha, though?" asked Carter. “Quite a
shift.”
"It was a break," said Nick, "A totally fresh start. Someplace
that could provide us with all we needed for our quest, while allowing
us to do good for mankind at the same time." Carter was quiet, and Nick
stood up. "I have to pay society back, Captain. I have done a great
deal of wrong, a great deal of evil, since I made that terrible
decision, so long ago. This is another installment. What Nat and I are
doing here. And on Alpha, I'm free."
"From what?"
"The Enforcers," said Nat. Nick turned to her, obviously taken
aback at her mention of them. "Might as well, Nick. Vampires do not
advertise, Captain. Secrecy is necessary to...our survival. Those, both
inside and outside of the Community who endanger that secrecy are
summarily dealt with."
"By other vampires."
"Yes. A sort of vampire police, if you will, Captain. They deal
with those who endanger the Community."
"And some in the Community take a dim view of what we are doing,
Captain," said Nick. "They would take the ultimate step, to put a stop
to us. Here on Alpha, we are away from all that. Free to pursue our
researches, unmolested."
"I see. They can't touch you, here." He nodded. "Quite clever."
"Thank-you," said Nat. "Now."
"Now?"
"Your story, Captain. You did say you had one?"
"Yes," said the pilot, and he let out a deep breath. "Doctor, I
realized what your husband was, almost at once. You see, I've met your
kind before."
"Where?" asked Nick, after a long silence.
"Australia. I'm from New South Wales, as if you couldn't tell. It
was back in ’80, and I was on a church camp outing, near Ayers Rock.”
“I’ve been there,” said Nat. “It’s beautiful.”
“That’s what I used to think,” said Carter, “before. Now, I can’t
even stand to look at a picture of the place. One evening my girlfriend
and I, we...well, we slipped away, after supper. Out of sight of our
chaperone.” He was quiet a moment, remembering.
“And it was then that he struck,” said Nick.
“Her,” corrected Carter. “Tina and I, well, we heard these noises
coming from camp. Shouts and screams. We ran back, and that’s when we
saw her.” Carter’s eyes went almost blank, as he drifted back to that
night. “She had Benny Frank by the neck, then dropped him. There were
at least four bodies that we could see. Then we heard a shot, and she
turned. She moved with incredible speed, and the bullets didn’t do a
damned thing. We heard more screaming, but we didn’t dare move from
where we were hidden, behind some trees and brush. We were both scared
to death, I can tell you.”
“And she didn’t see you?” asked Nat.
“Oh she saw us. I don’t understand how. It was pitch black, with
no moon, but she did.”
“How did you escape?” she asked.
“I had pocketed a pistol, when we went off, Tina and me. Sometimes
you run into Dingoes, or other wild animals. I wasn’t supposed to,
but…” He shrugged. “Anyway, she dropped this one body, I can still see
the blood running down her chin, and turned to look our way. She
smiled, and it was like a leer straight from hell, let me tell you. She
came towards us, and laughed.”
“You fired,” said Nick.
“Yeah. I fired. Right into her chest. It didn’t seem to do a
thing. I fired again, and again it only slowed her down. She laughed,
calling me ‘silly boy’. I saw her teeth. Fangs. And her eyes. Glowing
yellow-white. Then, I fired into her face.”
“Ouch,” said Nat, recalling the head wound that had nearly spelled
exposure for Nick.
“This time she fell,” said Carter, “screaming in pain. I put
another shot into her eye, and kept on firing, till I was out of
shells. Her head was a mess, blood and flesh everywhere. I could see
her brain.”
“And you thought she was dead?” questioned Nick.
“Well, yeah. Part of her skull was blown off. It was a .357
Magnum, after all.”
“Then?” asked Natalie.
“Tina was screaming, and it took a long time to quiet her down.
When I had, we went back into camp.” Carter squeezed his eyes shut,
remembering. “They were dead. All of them, including Freddy Mascall,
our chaperone. All but Sally. She was alive, still. Barely.” Carter
looked down at the floor, silent a moment.
“And Sally was?” asked Nat, though she already suspected the
answer.
“My sister, Doctor,” replied Carter, looking back up slowly, his
eyes flinty. “She tried to talk. I gave her some water, but...what
could I do?”
“I am sorry, Captain,” said Nick. “Honestly.”
“I found the radio,” Carter continued, “and sent out a Mayday
call, but it was a while before we raised anyone. Someone had ripped
the mic cord out. It took me a while to fix it.” He was quiet again,
and Nick guessed why. “Then, we saw her again. Standing there, like
she’d never been hurt at all.” He looked at Nick, no doubt recalling
the speed with which he had regenerated.
“What did she do?” asked Nick, though he was certain of the
answer.
“We saw her, then she was right in front of us. I’ve never seen
anyone move with that kind of speed. I reached for the rifle, but she
was way too fast.”
“What saved you?” asked Nat.
“She was grinning, her eyes glowing. She had us backed up against
a tree, and reached out, grabbing me. Then she turned like she’d heard
something. After a moment, we heard it, too. A chopper. She seemed to
hesitate, and she looked from me, to the direction the sound was coming
from. She tried to make me forget, Nick, just like you did. But it
didn’t work. We could begin to see the horizon, too. It was just
beginning to grow light, by this time.”
“She must have taken quite a while to regenerate,” said Nat. “How
long?”
“Oh, it must have been a least four hours, from the time I shot
her, till we saw her again.”
“Sorry,” said Nat. “Doctor’s curiosity. Go on.”
“Well, she let me go, and her face was angry. She was in a rage,
we could see. She looked at me, and said, ‘Lucky boy. Another time’,
and then she flew off.” He watched their faces. “Yeah. Flew. She lifted
off the ground, and went up, into the air. Fast, too. I never saw
anything move that fast, Human or bird. A few minutes later, the
chopper got there, and it was light enough to see by.”
“What did you tell the police?” asked Nick.
“What could we? A vampire? We just said we’d heard screams, and
rushed back to find them all like that.”
“They must have seen the bite marks,” Nick went on.
“Oh sure, but who is going to believe in vampires? In fact they
held Tina and me, for a while, but had to let us go. In the end, they
put it all down to a wild animal attack, and closed it.”
“It must have been horrible,” said Nat, “watching all your friends
being slaughtered.”
“It was worse,” said Carter. “Sally survived.” He watched two
pairs of eyebrows go up. “Yeah. She lived, but she was never the same.”
“What did she say?” asked Nick. “To the police?”
“She told what she’d seen. She said it was a vampire, but no one
believed her. Slowly, she spiraled down into madness. Today, she’s in
the Belconnen Psychiatric Hospital, in Canberra. A mental home. She
doesn’t speak, doesn’t recognize me, or Mom and Dad. She’s even afraid
of the sunlight. It might have been better if she had died. More
merciful.”
“Can you describe this vampire?” asked Nick.
“Yeah. She was tall, with long blonde hair. Kind of honey-colored.
She was built like a centerfold model and moved like an athlete. But
it’s her eyes that I remember the most, Doctor. Yellow, then red,
shining, with the blood running down her chin.” Carter shook his head.
“I still have dreams about it Nick, even today. But why me? Why should
I be the one to survive, when so many others didn’t?”
“You were spared for a purpose, Captain. Who can say why?”
“Well, I do know one thing,” said Carter. “If I ever find her
again, I’ll kill her Nick. I’ll make her pay for what she did to my
sister and friends.”
“Easier said than done, with a vampire,” said Natalie.
“Then I die trying,” said Carter, with heat. “remember, she’s
already made two mistakes.” He rose, and drew his commlock.
“Oh?” asked Nat.
“Yeah. One, she picked on the wrong bunch of people. And second,
she left me alive.”
“I’m glad you don’t blame all of us, Captain,” said Nick.
“Why should I? She’s the one who was responsible, not you.
Besides, you saved my life, remember?” He keyed open the door. “Oh one
more thing, Nick.”
“Yes?”
“That Eagle we flew? Well, guess what?”
“Damn you, Nicholas!” said LaCroix again, in Nick’s nightmare.
Again his Master stood, stake raised to kill, blood on his lips, eyes
ablaze. He tensed...
And speared the window with the weapon, instead. The sun blazed
through the shattered glass and caught Nick, still prone over Natalie.
His skin began to burn, then his hair and eyes. Indescribable pain
ripped through him, and he screamed...
Nearly falling out of bed.
“Nick? Nick, what in Heaven’s...”
“Dream,” he said, still dazed, bloody sweat on his forehead.
“Merde!”
“LaCroix again, Nick?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it was him, Nat” He flopped back onto the pillow, and
was silent, letting his pulse and breathing return to vampire normal.
Then, with a deep breath, he began to tell her his dream. “I still
don’t know, Nat. Was it me that took your blood, or was it LaCroix?
It’s all so damned muddled.”
“You still can’t remember?”
“Not clearly. For weeks after Divia attacked me, things were
unclear, Nat. Even my memories of Tracy were a confused jumble. I
really thought she’d died, Nat.”
“At least she’s okay, Nick. Happy and very much alive. The bullet
only did minor damage.”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“LaCroix, letting the sun into my loft. Someone pulled the
radiation screens off the Eagle’s cockpit windows. Someone who knew I
would be the one in that Eagle with Carter.”
“Aren’t they changed periodically, as part of regular
maintenance?”
“Yes. All the rest scheduled for replacement were done, except for
Eagle 9.”
“And the training roster was posted, too. Anyone could have seen
it,” added Natalie. Nick nodded, but said nothing. According to Carter,
the maintenance logs for that Eagle were missing. Nowhere to be found.
Who?
“LaCroix must be behind it,” he said at last.
“But he wants you back, Nick. Exposing you to the sun, and more
intense sunlight than you’d ever get on Earth, is more likely to kill
you than return you to the fold. He may be a complete sicko, but dumb
he is not.”
“But who else could it be, Nat? Who else?”
Nicholas wasn’t the only Alphan unable to sleep that “night”.
Commander Gorski lay awake, deep in worry. Simmonds and the Lunar
Commission, Alpha’s governing body, had made it clear. Painfully so.
Getting the Meta Probe off and running was Priority Number One. Nothing
was to be permitted to interfere. At all. Period.
And now this weird illness, that had claimed the lives of two.
Would it interfere? The Meta Probe astronauts, both main and backup
crews, had arrived on Alpha, and begun the final leg of their training.
What about them? Would they be affected, as well?
For a moment, he let his wandering gaze rest on one of the old
icons, that had been in his family for generations, a Rubliev in fact,
resting on a shelf near the bed. Silently, hoping the Saints were
listening, he uttered a prayer for wisdom.
Damn Simmonds! Gorski pounded the mattress. He would dearly love
to take that goateed weasel, and apply some pressure of his own! Meta
Probe? For a moment, Gorski fantasized about putting Simmonds on a
ship, alone, and shooting him into deep space!
Fat chance.
Down the corridor, Tony Verdeschi was also finding sleep elusive.
Only this time, it had less to do with his sleeping alone, than with
something that just wouldn't stop bothering him. One of, as his father
had liked to put it, “those things”.
Doctor Nicholas Barber.
He had checked out, of course. All his references. Birthplace.
Schools. Yet, there was something that just refused to go away.
Something...
Unable to shake it off, he got up, and headed for his security
office. Calling up the files on both Barbers, he began yet another
security review. Linking up with several databases on Earth, he set the
machine to do an exhaustive search.
Exhaustive.
“Got it!” cheered Nat, holding up the beaker. It caught the light,
shimmering like a ruby. “At last.”
“Are you sure?” asked Vincent.
“Batch B-127H,” laughed Nat, barely able to contain herself. She
was ecstatic. “It’s perfect.”
She gave the flask to Vincent, who at once began an exhaustive
analysis. He and Nat went over it, again and again, in minute detail.
Nat’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Vincent was growing more excited
by the minute.
“Nick! Nick!” she cried. A moment later Nick came out of his lab,
hands dirty. She showed him the preliminary test results, and he
grabbed her by the arms, lifting her off of the floor and twirling her
around.
“Enfin!” he shouted, as excited as she. They laughed, grabbing
each other, exclaiming with excitement, till at last Nick kissed her.
Vincent laughed softly, shaking his head.
“How’s the synthesizer?” Nat asked at last, settling down. For an
answer, he took her by the hand, and drew her into his lab. “Nearly
there, Nat. We’re still having a problem with the memory buffer
initialization, but it’s only a matter of time.”
They moved to the workbench, where a handsome black man was
working. Natalie recognized him as Kano’s second, Ouma, as in love with
computers as was his chief. In fact, the two were so alike, they were
unofficially known as “The Twins”.
“Where’s Kano?” asked Nat. “I haven’t seen him today, Ouma.”
“He is in his lab,” smiled Ouma. “A new shipment of parts and
equipment for the Master Computer came up on this morning’s Eagle. He
just had to oversee it himself.”
“The new voice synthesizer system?” asked Natalie.
“Yes. The X-5 will now have a real voice,” said Ouma, then went
back to his testing, probe touching one point on a circuit board after
another.
“Nat, this is wonderful,” said Nick, whispering and drawing her
aside. Not that he really needed to. Nothing short of the Last Trump
would have distracted Ouma, just now. “Finally, we’ve made it.”
“And that isn’t all,” Nat went on. “Remember dear old
Litoveuterine B?”
“Like I could forget,” grimaced Nick. “Damn nearly did me in, Nat.
Why?”
“Well, I’ve been working on it again, Nick. Alpha’s labs have made
huge advances in bioengineering technology the last couple of years,
and I’m up to Litoveuterine D. I’ve been trying it on my own cells,
Nick. I was finally able to culture...vampire cells.”
“And?”
“It bonded with the vampire virus, like B did, and shut it down,
but it didn’t effect the cell’s metabolism the way B did. Fewer side
effects, Nick,” she exclaimed.
“Then it could...it could work, Nat,” said Nick, thinking back to
that experiment gone wrong. A synthetic hormone designed to, of all
things, boost beef production had had the unexpected side-affect of
suppressing Nick’s vampirism. He could endure the sun, eat real food,
the works. Only it had turned out to be hideously addictive, making
Nick antsy, suspicious, and then finally downright paranoid. Never
again had they gotten as close.
Until Moonbase Alpha.
“Anytime now,” said Nick, motioning towards the synthesizer. “All
the food we’ll ever need, Nat. And if your other work pans out...we can
go home, Natalie. We can be Human, again.”
“And have a real life, Nick,” she whispered, leaning close. “A
family, Nick. Babies. A...” She forgot words and kissed him. Nicholas
responded, forgetting...
“Got it!” exclaimed Ouma, nearly loud enough to blow the windows
out, to one and all. They let go of each other, and turned back to face
him.
“For sure?” asked Nick.
“Yes. It was a corrupted initialization file in the BIOS, Nick.
That’s why it would not come up, but it’s clear now. We can begin the
data transfer immediately!”
“Doctor Barber?” came Vincent’s voice, over the commlock.
“Yes?” answered both vampires. “Come on in, Ben,” said Nat.
“You were absolutely right, Natalie,” said Vincent. “The
creatinine and myoglobuline analysis confirms. It’s perfect.”
Barely an hour later the synthesizer was ready for it’s first test
run. Ouma did the honors, and within minutes out flowed a small amount
of the precious red fluid. At once subjected to analysis, it passed
every test.
They had done it.
“Please,” said Helena. “Keep it down to a dull roar, okay?”
“But this is something to celebrate,” said Mathias. “It’s perfect,
Helena. Red cells, plasma, creatinine...”
“Except,” said Nat.
“Except?” said Mathias. “What’s left out?”
“Cholesterol,” smirked Nat impishly, then burst out laughing.
“It’s fat free!” They all joined her, dissolving in raucous jocularity.
“Very interesting,” said Tony Verdeschi, in his office. “Very.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
That evening, Nick and Nat celebrated in their quarters, nearly
glutting themselves on the fruit of their labors. Nick could feel the
energy pulse and surge through his frame, the raw flailing power his
kind took from the hunt.
“Perfect,” he said, the memory of a thousand past hunts coming
back to him as he savored the red fluid. He held it on his tongue, eyes
closed, losing himself to the ebb and flow of the ecstasy pounding
through him. He looked deeply into Nat’s eyes, and drank again.
“And typeless,” replied Nat. “Universal donor. Tomorrow, Gorski
wants us to start restocking Alpha’s blood supplies.”
“Think you can fudge the numbers a bit, in Medical?”
“Ooooh, just watch. ‘Hacker from Hell Lambert’ they call me,” Nat
grinned, then took another draught and moved to Nick, drawing her
lips...
She never got there.
All at once, the security alarm was blaring, and she instinctively
knew what it was.
“He went berserk in the main cafeteria,” said the security man, in
Medical. “One minute Stewart was fine, having lunch with his
girlfriend, the next he was grabbing his head and screaming, as if he
were in pain.”
“Just like Praeger and Faber,” said Helena.
“After that he went wild,” the security guy went on. “He tried to
get out through the windows, and injured two people before he was
subdued.”
“Same symptoms?” asked Gorski of Helena.
“Exactly, Commander. Examination shows his brain has an identical
malignancy to those suffered by the other men.”
“And the prognosis, Doctor?”
“Right now, we’re holding out little hope, Commander. Right after
we got him in here, Stewart suffered cardiac failure. Right now he’s
going on life support, only.”
“Stewart,” said Gorski over the IC into the isolation ward.
"Stewart, it's me. Stewart?"
Stewart didn’t move. His face had a blank, empty expression, his
eyes clouded over. As Gorski watched there was a slight twitch, but the
astronaut made no response.
“What was his duty assignment?” asked Gorski.
“Shuttle pilot,” said Verdeschi. “He ferried atomic waste from
here to be dumped in Area Two.”
“And you are certain there is no radiation whatsoever, Doctor?”
asked Gorski.
“None,” replied Helena. “The biopsy results aren’t back yet, but I
expect to find the same as the other men, Com...” She was cut off by an
alarm.
“It’s Stewart,” cried a nurse. “CVA”
Helena called it. Astronaut Tilden Stewart died of a massive
stroke, brought on by the unexplained growth in his skull, at 22:49
Lunar Time. As before, Helena and Nat performed the autopsy. As before,
the results were the same. A perfectly healthy man had died from the
eruption of a malignancy in the brain that defied medical explanation.
The aberrant cells showed a pattern similar to radiation poisoning...
Only there was no radiation.
Nor was there was to be any rest, either. The next morning another
pilot, Luke Park, was attacked the same way, on the way back from the
Far Side. He’d gone nuts, and so had his piloting, as his co-pilot
struggled with him in the cockpit. The Eagle weaved all over, at last
belly-flopping into the Alpine Valley. When the rescue ship got there,
Park was exactly like the other men. Eyes clouded over, face a canker,
unresponsive. Fredericks the co-pilot had retreated to the passenger
module, the Eagle’s only liveable area, to wait as the ship’s life-
support failed.
Like the rest, Park lingered a few days, never recovering. In
desperation Helena and Mathias tried a variety of anti-cancer drugs on
the growth in Park’s brain, but none evinced any effect.
Helena was frustrated. Four men, all her responsibility, stricken
with an unknown illness. Now three were dead, a fourth lay dying, and
she could find no cause. Grasping at straws, she investigated
everything, regardless of how odd or unlikely. Finding that both Faber
and Park had suffered a severe flu before coming to Alpha, she probed
whether a virus might have mutated somehow, perhaps...
It turned out to be an unfortunate line of research. Gorski,
needing something with which to placate Simmonds, related the “virus”
angle, while suppressing much of the rest of Helena’s findings. The
“astronaut virus infection” soon became the official story.
Anton Gorski absolutely hated Gerald Simmonds. The man was
refined, witty, urbane, cultured, and a snake. Simmonds had the moral
restraint of a hungry shark, Gorski had decided. He was a man who had
bullied, sullied, cheated, blackmailed, and outright lied to get where
he was now. A Ph.D. in political science, he’d put his education to
good use, doing what he “had to”, to achieve his desired ends.
Having insatiable political ambitions, Simmonds saw, Gorski was
certain, the Meta Probe as a personal springboard to higher office. If
anything, ANYTHING, went wrong with the project, the Commissioner would
see to it that heads rolled.
Starting with Gorski’s.
And Anton Gorski was not at all amenable to being ground under
heel by the ambitions of a glorified political hack. Simmonds might
have gotten himself appointed Space Commissioner, but he knew about as
much about space and space travel as did the average plumber about
characterizing non-linear dynamics by using wavelet analysis! He was
a...
Well, he was. But Gorski had no desire to end his career on a sour
note. So, he’d thrown Simmonds a bone, hoping to hold the predatory
Commissioner off until an answer was found, or the Meta Probe was on
its way.
And that, Saints be praised, would be soon. The Meta Probe
astronauts were well into the final leg of their training, and the
probe ship’s engines were nearly complete. The engineers were expecting
to test-fire them any day now, and then the ship would be moved to the
launch platform in lunar orbit, for final preparations and fitting out.
If they could just manage to keep Simmonds at bay, until then.
In the Cascade Mountains of Washington State, John Robert Koenig,
and his brother Walter, were enjoying a rare holiday together. Both men
enjoyed the outdoors, the unspoiled immensity that was the natural
world. Hiking, fishing, camping. Ah, this was the life. As they sat
around the fire, John looked up, spying the moon.
For a moment, old sour memories surfaced. His time there, on
Alpha. The Ultra Probe disaster. The...
No. He would not let the past spoil his time with Walter. It was
too important.
Thank God, he thought, I’m here, and not on Alpha. They’ll never
get me back there again.
The results of Verdeschi’s search were both illuminating, and
frustrating. Doctor Nicholas Barber’s past was well documented and
complete. Complete, except for...
Doctor Brooks, Nick’s anatomy instructor at his “medical school of
record.” The only one who had not as yet retired, he had never heard of
Nicholas Barber. Oh, the computer records were there, as well as all
the usual paper files, but Brooks did not recognize the handsome
Alphan. Even the official class picture lacked one certain person.
From there, Verdeschi moved on to Nick’s photos, and was surprised
when a match came up, from of all places, the Toronto Police
Department. He was even more surprised to turn up a picture from the
Chicago Department, and totally floored to dig out a driver’s license
shot dated 1960, from New York. The license snap was with glasses and a
goatee, but the computer took care of that.
Yeah. The same guy. New York, Chicago, Toronto.
But how? Given Barber’s appearance in the license shot, he looked
around thirty or so. Assuming that to be the case, that would make him
at least seventy years old. The man he had met and played poker with
was certainly no oldster. No one at the New York DMV, or the Chicago
PD, would still be there from that time.
But Toronto was another matter. Another matter entirely.
He did some more checking. The Toronto Police files rendered up
three people still living who had worked with “Detective Nick Knight”.
One, a Captain Joseph Stonetree, had retired last year. Detective Tracy
Vetter was still active, however, as was Captain Joe Reese.
Verdeschi put through calls to them both.
Nick awoke next morning, to find Nat hurriedly dressing. It wasn’t
hard to figure the reason.
“Another one?”
“Yeah,” said Nat, clipping the commlink to her belt. “Another
Eagle pilot.”
Astronaut Mario Fouchet had succumbed to the same symptoms as the
other men. He lay next to Park in the Medical Center as ravaged, and as
blank, as the rest.
“It happened on the way to Area Two,” said Paul Morrow, Main
Mission Controller, and Gorski’s second. He’d been on the radio with
Fouchet’s Eagle when the pilot had fallen ill.
“What about the co-pilot, Collins?” asked Gorski.
“He checks out,” said Doctor Vincent. “No signs of the illness,
Commander.
Beep.
“Yes?”
“Commissioner Simmonds for you, sir,” said Sandra Benes. Gorski
frowned, and retreated to his office. As usual, Simmonds was his oily,
overly nice self.
“Anton,” he said, stroking his beard. “What’s the word?”
“We’ve had another one, Commissioner,” replied Gorski. “This
morning, at Area Two.”
“Same as the rest?”
“Yes.”
“Does Doctor Russell have any clues as to the source of the
virus?” asked Simmonds.
“None so far, Commissioner,” replied Gorski. “She and her staff
are working around the clock to try and un...”
“Yes, of course, Commander. Now, the Meta Probe astronauts.”
Simmonds waited a beat, letting his expression speak for him. “They are
well?”
Oh that face! thought Gorski. If only I...
“They are, Commissioner. Warren and Sparkman are in perfect
health. The back-up crew, Bennett and Wyn Davies, are as well. At the
moment, they are out on a training flight.”
“Excellent.” Simmonds leaned towards the vid pickup. “I hardly
think I need remind you Commander, of the seriousness of this
situation. The Meta Probe is our paramount concern. We cannot allow
anything whatsoever to interfere.”
You mean that you cannot let the political opportunity of a
lifetime blow up in your face, you pig! thought Gorski. The anti-space
movement causing you problems again?
“I understand,” he said, forcing his face to remain pleasant. Oh
to reach through that screen, across all the miles between them, and
grab that scrawny neck...
“I trust so,” said Simmonds, in his best abusive parent tone.
“Now, there are two other small matters I need to cover with you,
Anton.”
“And they are?”
“Professor Bergman. I want him to stay on there, for now. I know
he’s scheduled to rotate off Alpha, the end of this month, but I'd like
him to remain until the Probe ship is on her way.”
“He won’t like that,” said Gorski. “And Doctor Linden...”
“That’s not my concern, Commander. Or yours. The decision stands.”
“Very well. And the other matter, Commissioner?”
“How much do you know about Doctor Barber, Anton? Nicholas
Barber.”
Nick was ecstatic. Both Nat’s bioengineering, and his work on the
synthesizer, had paid off. Big. They now had achieved their first goal:
a virtually unlimited supply of the sustenance they needed, on demand.
Now, now!! they could concentrate upon the second.
Forever eradicating the vampire within!
As Nat set to on that one, Nick worked with the folks in technical
section, putting his new synthesizer through one rigorous test after
another. Soon, another was being built, bound for the Meta Probe.
Nicholas felt a tiny surge of pride. His and Nat’s work, going out into
space. Should the astronauts have need and their blood stocks suffer
damage or prove insufficient, they would have something to fall back
on.
And it was put to the test almost at once. Tony Verdeschi, Chief
of Security, was wheeled into Medical with an ugly wound along his left
arm, bleeding profusely. Another worker from Area Two Moses Ozaba, had
gone berserk upon returning, attacking both Tony and the pilot. The
pilot, Link, was fine, but Tony had taken a bad one.
“What the hell did he hit you with?” asked Nat, who happened to be
the one on duty.
“A geologists pick,” he said through clenched teeth as Nat
irrigated the wound. “Must have grabbed it from the equipment locker, I
guess.” He lay back, weak from blood loss, and felt the painkillers
begin to kick in. “He barreled out of there, totally crazy, Natalie.
Just like the others.”
Nat looked at the blood still oozing from the wound, and felt the
urge rise up. Unable to resist, she put a bloody fingertip to her lips
and tasted. She could feel the almost erotic jolt as it covered her
tongue, and the nature...
“Santa Maria!” swore Tony on seeing her eyes. Quickly Nat squeezed
them shut and took a deep breath, snapping out of it. Opening them
again, she returned to her patient. “I...I saw...what the...” He tried
to rise.
“Quiet, Mr. Verdeschi,” she said, putting out a restraining hand.
“You’re weak, Tony. Weak from shock and loss of blood.” She put another
hypo to him, and he passed out quickly. Then, thanks to Nick's
creation, she replaced the nearly two pints of blood he’d lost, patched
him up, and left him to recover.
“Close, Nat,” she muttered to herself. “You nearly gave the game
away.” The sight of all that blood had excited her vampiric nature,
bringing her close to losing control. Control, Nick had taught her,
came only with time. Given enough, she would be better able to reign
herself in. Fortunately, Verdeschi was no resister, and could be made
to forget this regrettable incident. She washed up, and left him to
sleep.
Unaware that she had been seen.
There was a small party of sorts later, in Medical, to celebrate
the success of Doctors Barber and Barber. Not only was the new
technology working, it had already saved its first life. All in all,
not bad.
Still, the celebration was muted, everyone aware of the recent
tragedies that had visited Moonbase Alpha. A fifth man had been
stricken with an illness no one understood, the others dead or dying.
Deciding she hadn’t the moral right to ignore it, Nat set aside
her own research for a while, and applied herself to Alpha’s malady.
For two days, she studied slides of the diseased tissue, trying to
culture it, scanning it with the tunneling electron microscope.
All of which told her very little, aside from the fact that the
genetic material inside the altered cells was scrambled. No surprise
there. Curious, she exposed some of the cell cultures to her own blood,
and waited. She watched expectantly, hoping...
And then it happened. Slowly, the cells began to change, gradually
losing their malignant pathology. Within less than four minutes, she
had culture dishes full of normal Human brain cells. The cells were, in
effect, “cured”.
“Even this, Nat?” asked Nick later, in their quarters.
“Uh huh. I was able to culture cells from two of the men. Praeger
and Ozaba. Both returned to normal, Nick. The vampire element caused a
total repair of the cells. Both the outer membrane and internally,
Nick.”
“But at what cost, Nat? Turning them both into vampires?”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Nick. And I’m not exactly eager to
do it myself, either. I haven’t forgotten what happened with Richard.”
“And Alpha’s hardly the best place to bring someone across,
either,” agreed Nick, recalling the bringing across of her brother.
“First Feeding and all.”
“Messy, yes,” nodded Nat, recalling her own First Feeding.
“What did you do with the cultures, Nat?”
“Destroyed them, of course.” She yawned. “Oh man. Natalie is
beat.” She stretched and ruffled her luxuriant hair. “I have to crash,
Nick.”
“Me too, Nat,” said Nick, and moved to the windows. He lifted the
shutters into place, blacking them out completely. Outside, Plato
Crater was bathed in sunlight, and soon the moon’s movement would bring
that deadly radiance right through them. Though these windows were
fully shielded against solar radiation, neither vampire wished to put
them to the acid test.
“What the hell?” muttered Helena Russell, eyes glued to her
instruments. Under them, one of Nat’s cell cultures held the CMO
spellbound. Helena’s medical mind wanted to know. What had happened to
these cells? They were Human, and from the ID number on the dish, taken
from the latest victim, Ozaba.
But they weren’t the same. Not only was there no trace of the
malignancy that had killed the man, but the cells had been subtily
altered somehow. Probing further, Helena could see strange new
nucleotide sequences, in both the DNA, and the transfer RNA. Sequences
she had never seen, nor heard of. She set the computer to searching
Alpha’s vast medical database for anything remotely like them, and
reflected once more on Dr. Natalie Barber.
She knew what she had seen, and while she considered it morally
repugnant to spy upon her own staff like some paranoid Nazi, she felt
that she was justified here. At least, she told herself more than once,
she had managed to jam up the disposal chute in time to catch one of
the culture dishes.
The next morning, at 09:48 Lunar Time, Astronaut Luke Park was
pronounced dead by Doctor Vincent. He was followed an hour and a half
later, by Mario Fouchet. Astronaut Ozaba continued to linger, though
nothing succeeded in halting the progression of the disease. No drug,
no radiological therapy, nothing. It slowly continued to eat up his
nervous system, heedless of anything and everything.
Natalie was beginning to feel as if she were back home in Toronto,
and that Moonbase Alpha had turned into a charnel house. Since it’s
completion, Alpha had seen only one death. Now, the mortality rate had
gone through the roof.
“And how are we today?” she asked Verdeschi, checking on her
patient.
“I think I’ll live, Doc,” he said brightly, then looked at his
bandaged arm. “At least you won’t have to autopsy me, anytime soon.”
“Let us hope not, Mr. Verdeschi. I have had quite enough of that.
Enough to last me a lifetime, as a matter of fact.”
“So, how does Alpha stack up against Toronto, eh?”
“Well, the death rate is, overall, lower, but I do miss it. I mean
it is home, Tony. The lake, the open air, the smell of growing things.”
“Yeah, I kind of miss home too, Doc. The parks, the old
neighborhood, the bridge over the Arno.” He was quiet a moment. “So,
why’d you choose Alpha? Quite a career switch, wasn’t it? Toronto, to
the moon?”
“Not really. Medicine is medicine, and I decided that I wanted to
help people before the end up in the meat wagon. The research being
done here, in the medical field, is so very important. I just had to be
a part of it.” She looked at his chart. “Besides, the macho hunk on the
recruiting poster was just too cute to pass up.”
Why is he asking these questions? Nat wondered.
“Same here,” said Verdeschi, as she changed the dressing, and
updated his chart. “Except for the poster. Had to be a part of it.”
“Cops in Space?”
“Well, my marks as a pilot sucked, but there was an opening in
Security, so…” He shrugged. “Must be nice, you and your hub. Both being
doctors.”
“Well, it simplifies mealtime conversation,” said Nat. “There,
your arm is doing nicely, Mr. Verdeschi. Nothing broken, no signs of
infection. You can go.”
“Thanks, Doc,” he said, getting to his feet. “I like the company,
but the décor is lousy in here.”
“Uh” was Nat’s noncommittal reply.
“Did you and your husband attend the same medical school?”
Verdeschi asked as he eased back into his uniform.
“No”, said Nat, who knew that Verdeschi already knew damned good
and well they hadn’t.
“You know, I would never have taken him for a doctor. He doesn’t
look like a doctor.”
“And,” said Nat, turning away from Verdeschi to update his file in
the computer, “just what does a doctor look like, hhmm?” She waited a
beat. “There are no doctor genes that give us that Marcus Welby look.”
“Well, I don’t know, but he just doesn’t. He looks more like…well,
an actor?” He paused a moment. “Or a cop.”
Natalie tensed a moment, still too new a vampire to control her
reactions quickly. Verdeschi spotted it at once.
“Or maybe a soldier,” Tony went on, quickly. “He’s got that man of
action look about him, Doc.” He waited another moment or two. “I guess
it shows how wrong first impressions can be, eh?”
“Yeah,” said Nat, turning around. Verdeschi was on to something,
of that she was sure. Could she, dare she…
Beep.
“Tony?” chirped his commlock.
“Yeah?”
“Jobe here. We’ve got a fight in the Solarium.”
“Oh God, not another one!”
“No, not that. Just a squabble. Carolyn Powell, again.”
“On my way.” He keyed off, swearing softly, and clipped the
commlock to his belt. “Well, gotta go, Doc. Munus me vocat.”
“Well, here,” she said, tossing him a bottle of pills. “Take these
for pain. One per dose as needed, not to exceed six per day. If the
pain persists, come and see one of us.”
“Right, Doc.”
“You’re sure?” asked Nick, later.
“Oh yeah, Nick. Verdeschi knows. His hints were way too close to
be just coincidence.”
“But how, Nat? I worked for two years, building this identity. I
cleared up my past, big time.”
“Well, something got missed, my big burly Crusader. Either that,
or…”
“Yes. LaCroix.”
For the next two weeks, Alpha was reasonably quiet. Much to Nat’s
relief, the fracas in the mess was merely a lover’s spat. One of the
techs in Medical was breaking up with her boyfriend in Security, and it
had spilled over. Nothing more.
Helena was growing more and more angry with Commander Gorski. He
steadfastly refused to forward to allow her to forward any of her
findings. The “virus infection” was still the official story, and would
remain so. Period.
This is ridiculous, Helena told herself, as she reviewed all of
the data so far. Simmonds and the Commission needed to know what was
going on up here. They needed to get as many minds as possible working
on this problem. No answers, certainly no cure, would come from putting
their heads in the sand. Why the hell was Gorski doing this? It was
madness!!
No, she told herself. Politics. Not that there was much difference
betwixt one and the other, yea and nay. But she had become a physician
in order to help people, cure illness, heal the sick. Not to just sit
back on her hands, and do nothing. She couldn’t.
She got up, and went to her old-fashioned Olivetti. With brisk
movements, she typed up her resignation. One copy for Gorski, the other
for that...that bastard Simmonds. No longer would Helena Russell stand
by, and watch people die.
But…but any new CMO would have to deal with the same problems.
Whether they promoted one of her staff, or sent up someone new, they
would have to navigate the same bloody minefield. No, she thought,
shaking her head.
Not yet. She took the envelopes, and put them in her desk.
Just in case.
CHAPTER NINE
It had been three weeks since Nick’s nature had been revealed to
Carter. As good as his word, the pilot had spoken of it to no one, even
shifting the topic of conversation at one of the poker games away from
the realm of the “supernatural”, vampires of course, to something a bit
less close to home for the Doctors Barber.
He also had some news for them. A thorough search had turned up no
clues as to the identity of the person who had left the radiation
shields off the eagle’s cockpit windows. The maintenance logs were
clean, the Eagle’s windows suspiciously clear of fingerprints.
Curious.
“What’s this stuff?” asked Carter, watching Nat’s latest
experiment swirl and bubble.
“Litoveuterine, Captain,’ she answered.
“What’s that?”
“Originally, it was a synthetic hormone, intended to enhance beef
production.”
She could almost hear his eyebrows crinkle.
“And why would you be playing with that?”
Nat explained the attempted use of Litoveuterine B a few years
back, and it’s disastrous consequences for Nick. Carter totally missed
the technobabble, but readily grasped the potential import of the
research.
“And this will cure you?” he asked, picking up a bottle of the
liquid. “You and Nick?”
“We hope so, Captain. We really hope so.”
“Alan, please. Call me Alan.”
“Okay, Alan. Yes, we hope so.”
“What causes it? Being a …” He dropped his voice, looking about.
“A vampire, I mean.”
“It’s some sort of bizarre infection, Cap…Alan. A virus-like
organism that alters portions of the host creature’s nucleic acid
sequences. Sorry,” said, seeing his expression. “The DNA and Transfer
RNA in our cells are changed, but we haven’t yet figured out how it
works.”
“How do you, well…catch it? This virus?”
“You have to be directly infected by blood containing the virus,
Alan. Usually, you’re so weakened by loss of blood that the virus
begins to work immediately. The weaker you are, the faster it takes
hold.”
“Then it doesn’t just happen.”
“No. Someone has to be intentionally brought across. Someone
drained by being fed upon can’t live very long, even if the vampire
doesn’t finish them off.”
“Where did this…bug come from? Originally?”
“God knows, Alan. We have no clue. Vampires go so far back, no one
can remember ou…their beginnings. Vampires have existed since before
the pyramids. It’s a complete mystery.”
“How did you, well…”
“Complicated story, Alan,” she sighed, “and I’m not even…sure
we’ll be there,” she said loudly, shifting gears. “I love poker.
Helena.”
“Nat. Alan,” said the CMO, entering quietly. “Nat, are those cell
cultures ready?”
“Ready and at attention, Helena.” She indicated the waiting
culture dishes.
Then the alarms went off again.
“Anatoly Gorbushin,” said Mathias. “Wild paranoia, the clouded
eyes, the weird scarring on the face. Same as the rest.” They watched
Gorbushin, on life support, next to fellow pilot Ozaba. Neither man was
responsive to any stimuli. Both Helena and Vincent were making tests,
while Nat treated the minor injuries of Gorbushin’s co-pilot, Collins.
As with all the other men, no solid leads. None at all.
Helena, again grasping at straws, proposed excising the growth
from the brain. Since the men’s families would have to give permission,
she’d have to contact Earth, and speak to them.
“No”, said Gorski.
It was a moot point, anyway. Ozaba died, before she could have
begun. In a fury, Helena stormed into Gorski’s office and everyone
steered clear, pretending not to hear the loud, acrimonious voices
rattling through the bulkhead. Later, Helena stormed back to Medical
Center, to find Nat ready with Ozaba’s autopsy.
“So, what happened?” Nat asked, as they set to.
“Autopsy of Moses Ozaba,” droned Helena into the mic. “Male, aged
34.”
“So,” said Nat, as they made the first incision. “You don’t want
to talk about it.”
“I hate politicians,” said Helena, peeling back the first flap of
skin. “Gorski is an astrophysicist. He should be acting like a
scientist, instead of some…some damned White House Press Secretary! You’d think Bill Clinton was on the loose up here!”
“It was no different in Toronto, Helena. Sometimes it made it
difficult to do the job.”
“Difficult? It’s damn near impossible,” replied Helena. “We have a
problem up here, and I can’t report even the meager findings I do
have.”
“We’ll find it,” said Nat, removing Ozaba’s liver for weighing.
“We’ll figure this out.”
While the two doctors were at it with their knives and bottles,
Verdeschi sat in his office, mulling. He should report his findings.
But, Doctor Barber had saved his life. Treated his injury. And
Nicholas…well, he had saved Ben Vincent.
For one of the few times in his life, Tony Verdeschi found himself
in a moral quandary. He honestly did not know what he should do.
And, on the Dark Side, deep within the now disused Disposal Area
One, the temperature began, very very slowly, to rise.
Even for a vampire, Natalie was bushed when she got back to their
quarters. Nick had dropped off, in the big ugly white plastic chair,
and she let him sleep.
Only Nick was not sleeping peacefully. He was twitching, obviously
dreaming, and a thin film of red sweat was breaking out on his
forehead. For a few minutes she watched him, then headed for the
shower. When she returned, he was still at it.
“Nick,” she said. No response. She called louder, then reached
out, touching his arm. “Hey, N…” She leapt back as he snapped awake,
fangs bared, eyes blazing. “Nick! Nick wake up!” she cried, catching
him as he leapt out of the chair. “Nick, you…”
“Yeah,” he exhaled, plopping back down. He wiped his forehead, and
took a deep breath. “Dream, Nat. Bad one.”
“I gathered. Erica, again?” She managed to keep the skepticism out
of her voice.
“Yes,” he nodded. “And…Alyssa.”
“Alyssa?” Nat sat down, waiting as Nick returned to normal. “And?”
“The same as Erica. I must leave Alpha, she said. There’s danger
here for me, Nat.” He looked at her a long moment. “You still don’t
believe it, do you?”
“I’m a scientist, Nick,” she sighed, taking the chair opposite
him. Maybe, if I had been raised back in…aw hell, I don’t know.”
“But it’s true, Nat. There is danger up here. All these deaths. A
disease no one can understand. Erica was right, Nat.” Nat merely
shrugged. The scientist in her firmly believed that ghosts were crap.
Dead people were dead. They didn’t drop by for a chat. Especially when
their mortal remains were over a quarter of a million miles away on
another world, and several years, or centuries, in the past.
But, she could not help but remember, she had seen one. Her own
grandmother had paid her a visit, of sorts. Natalie had tried to
rationalize it away as nerves, exhaustion, delusions, whatever. Yet,
her scientist’s mind could find no other explanation but the simple
reality of it.
“So. You think we should go?” she asked him, at last.
“I…I don’t know, Nat. We’re so close. So close to finding the way
back that I hate the idea. But I’m sure they’re right.” He waited a
moment, listening to the silence. “Anything new?”
“On the litroveuterine? Well,” she sighed, shifting in her chair,
“the latest batch is swirling in its beaker. I’ll know more by noon.”
“The disease?”
“Dr. Vincent is doing enzymatic analyses of the malignant cells
from the affected men. The results should be in, late tomorrow
afternoon. For all the bloody good it’ll do.”
“You don’t expect much, then?”
“No. Not really, Nick. Whatever this thing is, it’s outside the
usual confines of medical science. Cells do not go from perfectly
healthy to terminally malignant in a few minutes, under any
circumstances I understand. It just does not happen, Nick.”
“Yet it has.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, tiredly. “It has.”
“Do you think that we could be affected?”
“No. I exposed some of the altered cells I cultured to the vampire
virus from my blood. After a few minutes, they returned to normal.
Well, vampire normal. The effects of this disease were completely
reversed.”
“Then what danger could Erica and Alyssa be talking about, Nat? If
we’re immune, like we are to everything else.”
“I don’t know, Nick,” she sighed again. Personally, she suspected
it was all in Nick’s head, these visitations. Only he had seen them,
after all. And even if they were, somehow, real, what danger?
Discovery? Well, someone was playing games with them, but ultimately
they knew who was responsible, and in time would discover who, on
Alpha, was doing his bidding.
Nat mulled it over and over, but could come up with no answers. As
she wool-gathered, she wandered back, to that night in Nick’s loft.
Back to her biggest unanswered question.
Who, in truth, had taken her blood?
Her memories of that period were muddled. Hardly surprising
really, given the events of those days. The resurrection of the demonic
Divia, her horrific swath of slaughter through the vampire Community,
the suicide of Natalie’s friend, the near-death of Tracy Vetter.
She’d gone to Nick’s loft, deciding that it was time. She loved
Nick, despite the chasm between them, and tonight she would leap that
chasm. She would be brought across. Become what Nick was. Share his
burden. She had entered his loft, waited for him in her negligee,
fortified herself with a drink or two, and after that it was all a
jumble. A Dadaist collage of images and sounds, but nothing concrete.
Until she had awakened, near dawn the next morning, changed. Altered.
Transformed. Dead.
A vampire.
She had awakened to Nick, looking down at her, both relief and
sadness on his face. The one thing he most of all wished to avoid had,
in his despite, come about. And, of course, LaCroix…
LaCroix had been there, she knew, no doubt purposing to torment
Nick yet again in yet another unholy fashion. She remembered fragments,
bits of words. But when she tried to make sense of it all, draw a
complete picture, it was chiefly LaCroix’s eyes she remembered, glaring
hatefully down at her. His hands upon her flesh, his…
Had he? Had LaCroix, with his usual sick perspective on “teaching”
his errant son, drained her to the point of death in order to force
Nicholas to make a choice? It would have suited his ends, as well as
stroked his vast twisted ego, to turn Natalie, the one seeking a cure
for vampirism, into a vampire herself.
Either way, it was a done deal, and she was now one of the Undead.
One of the very creatures she had once disbelieved, then striven to
cure. Oh yes, most definitely. That would have given him a laugh.
But the stake? Nat was sure, was sure, amongst all the other
myriad muddled images, that Nicholas had indeed given LaCroix the
wooden spike, prepared to die, to really die, rather than turn Nat into
what he was. From the floor, in a brief conscious moment, she saw the
ancient vampire, eyes glaring, a look of utter fury on his face. Why?
His joke not going over the way he’d hoped? Nicholas not playing the
pliantly obedient clientus to his mighty, megalomaniacal patronus?
She had seen no more, only heard his furious “Damn you,
Nicholas!”, then blackness. But she could readily understand, better
than Nick seemed to, why he had not plunged the weapon into them both.
Pride. To do so, to kill Nicholas, was to lose. In setting Nick
eternally free of his curse, LaCroix would have been, in effect,
surrendering to him, losing the argument of 800 years. With his mania
for control, the old Roman had, had, to keep Nicholas alive and well,
for him to dominate. It was as if keeping, rescuing, tormenting, and
punishing Nicholas had become the sum total of LaCroix’s life.
But however it was, he had left, stake unused, and only his curse
remained behind with them. Nick, forced to it, had saved her, and here
they were. Both vampires. Both hating what they were, both questing for
a cure.
No wonder LaCroix hated her so much.
The next day, it happened again. Kazuo Horiushi, another pilot,
was hauled out on a gurney after his Eagle returned from the Dark Side.
He’d gone off, while on the way back to Alpha. Exactly like the other
men, he had gone berserk, desperately seeking escape. He had tried to
smash his way out of the cockpit through the windows, sending the Eagle
careening out of control. His co-pilot, Weyland, had managed to stun
him, set the ship down, and get out of the cockpit before the port
blew. Once he was immobilized, Weyland was able to fly back to Alpha
without incident.
By that time, Horiushi was like all the rest. Vacant and
unresponsive to stimuli. His eyelids twitched now and then, but beyond
that, nothing. Ignoring Gorski’s orders, Helena contacted his family,
who gave permission for her radical surgical proposal.
“Hope and pray, people,” she said, as they began. The malignancy
in Horiushi’s brain was slightly smaller than the others, and nearer to
the cortex. Exercising caution, and extreme skill, Helena was able to
remove it, all in one piece. She sent it off to biopsy, and then it was
time to hope.
She looked out the windows of the ward to see an angry Gorski
glaring at her, but she didn’t give a damn. Her job, her calling, was
to save lives, to hell with rules. If Gorski, or better yet that
buffalo breath Simmonds didn’t like it, well, screw them!!!!! She’d
take her lumps. Right now, her sole concern was with her patient.
And her patient seemed to be improving, ever so slightly. With the
pressure off of his brain stem, his vitals began to firm up, and he was
breathing on his own. There was even, albeit very slightly, some degree
of renewed cortical activity.
For her part, Natalie closed ranks with her chief, as did the rest
of the medical staff. Every man and woman. Faced with such formidable
foes arrayed against him, Gorski could do nothing, and rather than jump
all over Helena, spent the rest of the day in conference with
Professors Bergman and Linden.
“Turning into an bloody assembly line,” quipped Nat, as Horiushi
was placed back in the ward, next to Gorbushin. He didn’t have company
for long. Anatoly Gorbushin died at 17:36 Lunar Time, that afternoon.
As before, nothing helpful turned up in the autopsy, and neither
Vincent’s enzymatic tests nor Mathias’ cerebro-spinal fluid analyses
yielded any useful results.
Nat came back from the post-mortem to check on her experiment.
Only there was no experiment! The beaker was empty, the computer
entries gone, the whole lot cleaned out. For a moment, she felt pure
rage boiling up inside of her. Weeks of work, gone!! Who? Who the hell
had…?
She roared in fury, shattering the chair she had been gripping and
slicing her hand on the plastic. She swore loudly, hurling a piece of
it across the room. Damn them! Damn that bastard LaCroix, and his…
“Natalie?” asked a voice, and she turned. It was Helena, sheaf of
reports in hand. “are you alright?” She looked at Nat’s hand.
“Oh, uh yeah, Helena. The chair back just shattered when I grabbed
hold of it, is all.” She quickly went to a cabinet, and began to dress
the cut. As she worked, she could feel the tissue beginning to heal,
and moved faster. “Helena?”
“Yes?”
“Who’s been in here, do you know?”
“Excuse me?”
“My experiment. When I came in here, after washing up, it was
gone.”
“Gone?” Helena looked at the bench. “What was it?”
“I…had some ideas about gene therapy, in the damaged cells of the
sick men. Just some preliminary research, but it’s all gone.” Done with
the cut, she picked up the damaged chair.
“I don’t know, Nat. I’ll look into it.” She watched Natalie put
the shards into the disposal chute, and noted how angry she obviously
still was. "Hey, Nat. Join me for coffee later?”
“Uh…sure, Helena. Cafeteria?”
“Right.” She watched as Nat reset the experiment, then retreated
to her own lab. A little later, she returned, and looked around. She
was certain it was…ah.
She also looked over Nat’s experiment. Funny, this didn’t look
much like gene replacement work, to her. She lifted a sample, and took
it back into her own lab, along with the tiny plastic shard that
Natalie had missed.
With blood on it.
At that very moment, in a specially modified Eagle, astronauts
Frank Warren and Eric Sparkman were approaching Navigation Beacon
Delta, on the Dark Side, on yet another Meta Probe training run.
“Litoveuterine?” said Helena, scowling at the computer readout. As
she had suspected, this had nothing whatsoever to do with gene
replacement therapy. But…a hormone to boost meat production? And one
rejected as lethal at that?
“Computer, is this analysis verified?”
“Affirmative,” replied the X-5, with “her” new voice. “Substance
is a variation of Litoveuterine B synthetic hormone.”
“And the blood sample?”
“Unknown substance in blood sample confirmed. No analogue to this
substance in medical database.”
“And the rest?” asked Helena, slowly.
“Anomalous nucleotide sequences in DNA and Transfer RNA confirmed.
No analogue to these sequences in medi…”
“Cancel.” She leaned back in her chair, pondering. A rejected
synthetic hormone, and a lethal one at that. A blood sample with
something in it that shouldn’t be there, and altered genetic material.
What the hell was going on with Natalie Barber?
Nat went to Security, make that stormed, and Verdeschi’s deputy,
Sanchez, promised to investigate. Later, she met Helena as agreed in
the cafeteria. As would be expected, the two physicians spoke of
Alpha’s current crisis, running up and shooting down a variety of
theories. Then, Helena shifted gears radically.
“When did you contract phototropia?” she asked, as Nat gingerly
sipped her coffee. God, but she missed this stuff. In her new state,
she could tolerate it, but only in small dollops.
“Ah…” she began, hiding behind her cup and thinking fast. “Well,
it wasn’t till I was past 30, Helena. It was slight at first, and since
I worked the night shift already, it was a while before it really
became noticeable.”
“Have you taken therapy, at all?” asked Helena, rattling off the
names of a few drugs.
“Nothing’s worked so far, Helena.”
“It’s an interesting situation,” said the CMO. “Both you and
Nicholas having the same condition.”
“Well, it simplifies who will be home when,” Nat replied. “In
fact, we met at the doctor’s.” She tried to keep a straight face.
It was true, after a fashion.
“Well, I have some ideas about the condition,” Helena went on. “If
you’d like, I could run some tests on both you and Nicholas.”
Uh oh.
“Maybe, when we’ve gotten answers to this illness of the
astronauts,” said Nat. “No sense splitting our concentration and
resources just now. It’s too critical, finding answers to this plague.”
“Okay,” said Helena, and let it drop. It was, after all, the
answer she had been expecting. Natalie certainly had something to hide,
and no doubt Nicholas as well. She had a few things to check on, and
then she would go to…
No. Not Gorski. He’d only…
Tony. Yes. She’d go to Tony, and let the Security chief know what
she had learned and suspected.
She did not like what she suspected.
Natalie, and all Alpha, held their collective breath for two days.
But, on August 17th, they exhaled. Astronaut Kazuo Horiushi died at
13:21 Lunar Time. This latest victim, despite his temporary rally, died
from post-operative complications. Specifically bleeding in the brain,
bleeding they just could not stop, despite heroic efforts. As had
become the grim lunar ritual, he was autopsied, scanned, analyzed,
sectioned, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. As had also become part of the
Alphan Sacred Mysteries, nothing substantive was found. No clues at
all, except for death.
“Eight,” said Eva Zoref, at that evening’s poker game. “Eight men
are dead, and we still don’t know why?”
“Not yet,” said Nat, scrutinizing her hand. “The enzyme and fluid
analyses give results similar to radiation poisoning, but there is no
radiation, Eva. None at all.”
“Well, the power station was checked again this afternoon,” said
Anton, tossing another chip into the pot. “Not a thing. Not so much as
an alpha particle where it shouldn’t be.” Kano and Verdeschi tried not
to grimace at the awful joke. Ouma stifled a smile. Nick rolled his
eyes, and thought of Don Schanke’s notoriously awful humor.
And awful it was becoming. One person here had been heard to refer
to it as “Deadbase Alpha”, and was severely chewed out by Gorski for
it. The Medical staff had been expressly forbidden to discuss it
outside of work (didn’t that go over well!), but the rumors were
spreading irregardless. The shuttle back to Earth had been dubbed “The
Meat Wagon”, and those assigned to fly missions carrying waste over to
the Far Side were now known as “The Graveyard Shift”.
Gorski clearly let it be known that he was not amused.
Duh.
Another thing that was clear, to Nick anyway, was that he and Nat
were being stalked. Eight-Hundred plus years of living as he had had
taught him to know when he was being shadowed. Whoever it was was not a
vampire, of course. That would have been obvious, if not
counterproductive. But shadowed he was, and it wasn’t long before he
found the first bug, in their quarters. Under the box that held Joan of
Arc’s cross. An hour or so later, he’d pulled one each out of he and
Nat’s commlocks. Furious, he’d nearly gone to Gorski, but Nat had
calmed him down. They’d be subtil, she said. Deftly, she crunched two
of them, putting the third into Nick’s silver pill box.
“Very tiny,” observed Nick. The bugs were half the size of an
average aspirin tablet.
“Only the best for Alpha,” Nat replied, and laid out her plan to
Nick, scribbled on paper. She yanked a strand of hair, wet it, and
stretched it across the box with the cross.
Now, during the poker game, Nick pulled out the pill box, and
withdrew a capsule, popping it into his mouth.
“Medication, Nick?” asked David Kano. “You okay?”
“Vitamin supplements,” he answered, downing it with a shot from
his hip flask. “My condition leaves me with a serious vitamin D
deficiency.”
“Phototropia?” asked Verdeschi. “That’s an allergy to sunlight,
isn’t it?”
“It is,” answered Nat, and launched into a minutely technical
description of the condition. Verdeschi tried to appear to follow her,
but had clearly been left far behind.
“Oh,” he said at last. “I see.”
They went on with the game, and Nick set the box down on the edge
of the table. Nat noticed Verdeschi eyeing it, but pretended not to,
tossing another chip into the pot.
“I raise you five,” she said.
“Looks old,” said Ouma of the box.
“Not really,” said Nick. “It’s only a few years. A gift.”
“It’s tasteful,” said Eva, then the door chimed. “Yes?”
It was Doctor Linden, one of the physicists on Bergman’s staff,
accompanied by Bill Fraser, an Eagle pilot. Fraser had come to a game
or two, but this was Linden’s first. Somewhat unpopular on Alpha,
Linden would be leaving soon, retiring, but Nick had found the old man
a likeable sort, and had profited from his advice on the synthesizer
project.
“Oh hi,” said Tony, as the two men came in. He turned, and so did
Nick…
Knocking Tony’s coffee cup off, onto his lap. The Security chief
leapt to his feet, and Nick solicitously helped wipe the still-hot
liquid off his clothes. There was a chorus of “sorry”’s, and “not a
problem”’s, and they all sat back down. Linden and Fraser were dealt
in, and the game resumed.
But Victor Bergman kept watching Nick for the rest of the evening.
“You get it in?” asked Nat, on the way back to their quarters.
“Got it,” replied Nick. Once back in their rooms, they checked.
Nat’s single strand of hair was gone.
Tony got back to his quarters, and unhooked his belt. Damn thing
was getting a little tight. He decided he needed to spend a little more
time in the gym, or find a new girlfriend, and tossed it on a chair.
What the…
He watched as the tiny object fell from it, onto the floor. He
bent to pick it up, and held it to the light.
“What the hell…?”
CHAPTER TEN
That night, Nick dreamed again. Once more, he saw Erica, beckoning
him to leave Alpha. To leave, and join her. Yet again he saw Alyssa,
his long-dead wife, making much the same plea.
“Please, dearest Nicholas,” she said, arms outstretched. “Leave
Alpha. Leave, My Husband, before it is too late for you.”
“Too late?’ he asked, standing and facing her. Suddenly, he was
out of bed, out of his quarters, and out on the surface! No spacesuit,
no uniform, zip. Reflexively he gagged, trying to breathe. But here, in
this place, he could. Nor did the sun, blazing down from the hard black
sky, harm him. He recoiled in fear from its broiling light, but
remained unchanged.
“Hey, Nicky boy,” said a voice, and he turned. There, leaning up
against one of Alpha’s navigation beacon towers, was the last person he
would have expected to see. Still dressed, incongruously here, in a
rumpled suit and wearing shades, was Toronto Homicide Detective Donald
G. Schanke.
“S…Schanke?” exclaimed Nick, eyes wide. “What in God’s name…?”
“Surprised to see me, Nick?” asked Schanke. “Frankly, I’m
surprised to see you standing naked on the surface of the moon, guy. No
spacesuit, nothing.” Schanke pushed away from the tower and moved
towards his former partner.
“How…?”
“How can I be here?” said Schanke. “We were buds, Nick. Partners.
A bond. You know, I really want to thank you for finding the sucker who
blew me and Cohen out of the sky, Nick. And for looking after Myra and
Jenny. That college fund you set up for her? I never would have
expected it. That was sweet, Nick.”
“Schanke, what…?”
“Am I doing here? Same as Erica and Alyssa, mon Nicholas. Warning
you, my vampiric friend. Get off Alpha. Get back home, Nick. This is
one dangerous place to be.”
“The astronauts that are dying…”
“That’s just the beginning, Nick. This baby’s gonna get a whole
lot worse.”
“How? What do you mean, Schanke?”
“Look,” said the apparition. “I never told you this, but you were
like a brother to me, Nick. Covering my el-tusho with Stonetree or
Cohen. Saving my hide from loony cop wannabes or screwy hunters.” The
apparition came closer and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. It felt real.
Very real. “I owe you a lot, Nick.”
“But…”
“You lied to me? You and Janette and Mr. Ghoulsville Himself,
Toronto’s very own Vincent Price, LaCroix, screwing around with my
head, and hiding the fact that you’re a vampire? I know. Hey, you do
what you have to to survive, guy. I understand, now.” Don took his
shades off, and looked Nicholas right in the eyes. “It’s incredible,
Nick. You. A vampire, going against your own nature, trying to do good
in the world. It shows what you’re made of, Nicky Boy.” He punched Nick
in the shoulder.
“I…regret my decision, Schanke,” said Nick slowly, still trying to
absorb the fact that he was standing naked on the lunar surface, having
a conversation with someone who was dead. “I made the wrong choice,
back then. I…I have to do penance for it. God…”
“And your penance gets notice, My Friend,” said Schanke, casting a
glance upwards. “And think, Nick. Think of all those people who would
have died, if you had lived out your normal lifespan, back in the 13th
Century. The slaves you saved in the Old South? The soldiers you saved,
Dr. Knight, during the Civil War? Ditto in Vietnam? The folks Vudu
would have blown to bits if you hadn’t caught him? The list goes on,
Nick. Oh, and Tracy? You did a great job on breaking her in. Protecting
her. You took care of my successor.”
“Why are you here?” Nick asked, increasingly uncertain that he was
not, in fact, going quite mad.
“First, to reassure you, Nick. You are quite, quite sane. I really
am here. The Schanke, Himself.” Schanke grinned his usual idiot grin,
and made a mock bow to his friend. “Second, to let you know that your
work gets the stamp of approval from Upstairs, guy. The stuff you and
Nat have done here has already saved a life, Nick. Verdeschi is going
to make a certain young lady very happy, a few years down the road.
That baby is going to be sooo cute, believe me. Which reminds me,
speaking of Vudu. You ought to know that he wasn’t acting alone, Nick.”
Schanke’s expression was deadpan. “He had help.”
“Help? From?”
“Someone who wanted to get to you, Nick. Someone who thought that
if you did the Big One so publicly, you would have to leave, and start
another life. Return to the fold, as it were.”
Silence.
“LaCroix,” said Nick, almost silently.
“Bingo, buddy! Ten out of ten. Smart as always. No wonder we made
Partners of the Month.”
“LaCroix was behind Vudu?” said Nick, almost seething. “But, how?
He…”
“Hey, Nick. My time is limited. To the point, okay?” He nailed
Nick with that sharp glance of his. “Listen to Alyssa and Erica. Dewax
the ears, dude. You have to leave Alpha, Nick. You and Natalie have to
leave Alpha, and soon.”
“But, there’s still so much to do, Schanke. Our work, the search
for the cure…”
“Nick,” said Schanke, fixing him with a glare. “Trust moi. You
have to go.” Nick opened his mouth. “No buts, Nick.” Schanke took his
neck in a grip of steel. “Come on.”
Nick felt himself moving, and instead of Alpha he now beheld
another installation. All around him were metallic spheres supported by
cones on lunar soil.
“What is this place?”
“Part of the reason,” said Schanke. As Nick watched, the spheres
began to smoke, the metal subliming into vapor, then to glow. The soil
was glowing as well, becoming semi-molten, as they watched. Then,
suddenly, amidst arcing bolts of energy, everything dissolved into
massive bursts of light as the spheres were blasted open by incredible
energy. Nick recoiled, then all was still. No explosions, no light.
Just the waste dump.
“Schanke?” he called. Silence. “Schanke?” He turned, and the
spheres of Area One were replaced by an interior space. It was one of
Alpha’s buildings, though he did not know which. Along one bulkhead
were windows, with monitoring equipment set into the bulkhead to the
right. Outside the windows…
Was a large, cross-shaped area, marked off by a security
enclosure. Dotted with a number of cone-shaped structures, there was
the universal symbol for radiation emblazoned everywhere. What was this
place?
As he watched, the same thing began to happen as before. Bolts of
lightning arced between cones, then cone after cone exploded, with
increasing violence, till everything was engulfed in a tidal wave of
furious energy. The last thing Nick saw were the windows being blown
inwards, and he felt the incredible waves of pure heat. Then…
He was back in his quarters, in bed, Natalie shaking him. He leapt
out of bed, disoriented, and stumbled. He at last caught himself on the
edge of the table.
“Nick! Nick!”
“Ya gotta go, Nicky boy,” said Schanke’s voice, thin and far away.
He could see his dead friend still, wavering and insubstantial, and he
shook his head. Schanke was gone, replaced by Nat, and he slowly
remembered where he was.
“Nick, what was it? You were having a nightmare.” He stood there,
breathing heavily, his skin covered in a vampire’s bloody sweat.
“Nick?”
“Nat,” he said at last, focusing on her. “Yeah. Nightmare.”
“What was it?” Nick didn’t answer at once, instead heading for the
shower. “Nick?”
“I saw them. I saw them again, Nat.”
“Erica and Alyssa?”
“Yes. They told me the same thing. We have to leave Alpha, soon.”
“Did they say why?”
“No. Only that there is danger.” He fell silent.
“What else, Nick?” Silence. “Ni-cho-las!”
“I…saw Schanke, Nat.” Natalie left out a little puff of disgust,
and walked back towards the bedroom. “It was weird, Nat.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, skeptically, arms crossed.
“No Nat, really. It was Schanke, telling me the same thing. Leave
Alpha. Now.”
“Why?”
“Something dangerous. He said that the astronauts falling ill was
just the beginning. It’s going to get worse.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Nick shook his head. “But I saw something explode,
Nat.” He described his visions, and the enormous explosions.
“Alpha blowing up?” she asked, a little incredulously. “Oh come
on, Nick. Alpha is…” She watched him, as he sat back down on the bed.
“There is more, isn’t there? Nick?”
“Yes. Yes, there is, Nat. He…he said that LaCroix was involved in
Vudu’s bombing of the plane he and Cohen were transporting Dollard on.”
Natalie, of course, remembered the details of that horrible affair, the
destruction of hundreds of innocent lives, all in order to silence one
man.
“Nick, you cannot seriously believe this. People no more come back
and talk to us about the other side than…than Commissioner Simmonds is
going to get religion!”
“I know what I experienced, Natalie.”
“And you believe it? That we’re in danger up here?” Her tone was
almost a challenge.
“I do, Nat. As bizarre as it is, I really do.”
As they talked, deep inside Area One, the temperature inched up a
few more degrees.
“Doctor Barber,” came the voice over Nick’s commlock, next
morning. He excused himself from his conversation with one of the
engineers, and answered. As he expected, it was Tony Verdeschi.
“Barber here,” he answered.
“Doctor, would you please come and see me in my office? Right
away.”
“Well, right now we’re working on the synthesizer, Tony. Commander
Gorski wants it ready for installation aboard the Probe ship by the
time it gets here.”
“This shouldn’t take long, Doctor,” said Verdeschi.
And he signed off.
With apprehension, Nick went. From Verdeschi’s manner he was
expecting a grilling, and he got it. Alpha’s Chief of Security was
direct, blunt, and to the point.
“Doctor Barber, when was the last time you visited Nuclear Waste
Disposal Area Two?”
“I never have,” replied Nick. True, after a fashion. Both disposal
areas were high security installations, off-limits to all but
authorized personnel. After an attempt nearly two years ago to hijack
an Eagle carrying radioactive waste, security had been severely
tightened, and access to both areas strictly controlled. Except by
permission of Alpha’s Commander, or a medical emergency, Nick had no
reason or clearance to be there.
“Okay,” said Tony, plopping some photos on his desk, “what’s
that?” Nick leaned over, and looked. It was a print, taken from one of
the security cameras inside the Area Two monitoring depot. It showed
Nick, buck naked, standing not a yard away from a dark-haired, slightly
balding man, in a rumpled suit. The image of the two men was fuzzy and
semi-transparent, but Nick could clearly recognize both himself and
Schanke. As he looked, Verdeschi tossed him another 8x10 glossy. Here,
he and Don were central, standing framed by the windows, but two others
were just visible on the periphery, dressed in some sort of gowns or
robes. Clearly women, Nick knew them for Alyssa and Erica.
“I don’t understand,” said Nick at last, with perfect control. “I
have never been to this place, Tony.”
“Then why do we have security tapes of you at Area Two? I won’t
ask why you’re in the buff, Doctor.”
“Tony, I have never been to Area Two. You know as well as I do
that I have no clearance to be there.”
“True enough.”
“Besides, aside from training flights with Alan, I haven’t even
been outside the base since I arrived, on May 24th.”
“So all the records indicate, Doctor.”
“Not to mention, Mr. Verdeschi, how the hell could I get from here
to anywhere, completely buckass, without being noticed?” Nick asked
stiffly.
“I admit to having wondered that myself, Doctor Barber,” replied
Tony, equally stiffly. He collected up the stills. “So, if you weren’t
there, why are you and these other people on the tapes? Hhmm?” He
looked at Nick square on.
“I have no explanation,” said Nick. “When were these taken?”
“Last night,” said Tony.
“Well, I was here, all last night. My wife can confirm that as
can, I am sure, all launch pad personnel.”
“Well, it certainly is curious, you must admit, Doctor. It makes
no sense. Why fake images of you, and in the all-together at that, in a
top security area?” Tony’s expression was unbelieving, bordering on
rude.
“That I have no idea,” replied Nicholas. Mon Dieu! He thought. He
really had been there! But how could the cameras pick anything up in
the, well, ethereal realm? He had no clue, but at least it meant that
his experiences were no fantasy. They had been real. Nat would have no
choice but to believe him, now. He was not hallucinating, or going mad.
It was all true.
Which meant that the warnings must be real, as well.
But warnings of what?
“May I go?” he asked suddenly, refusing to blink under Verdeschi’s
stare.
“Sure,” said Tony. He didn’t need to add the proverbial “don’t
leave town” bit. On the moon, there was only one. Nicholas rose, and
headed for the door. “Oh, Doc.”
“Yeah?”
“Ever been to Toronto?”
Nick nearly froze.
“Once, as a kid,” he said at last. “Why?”
“Just wondered. It’s my favorite city in North America. I just
wondered if you had.”
“Long time ago,” said Nick. “I don’t remember much.” And pressing
the button on his commlock, he left Tony alone. Verdeschi leaned back
in his chair, and reread the report on his desk. The two female figures
were too indistinct to ID, even with the most sophisticated image
enhancement available. But the man. He was a different story,
altogether. A very extensive computer search had identified him at
last. No mistake. He was one Donald G. Schanke, Homicide Detective, 96th
Precinct, Toronto Police, Toronto, Canada. Married, father of one.
Deceased.
“I don’t believe it,” said Nat, when she had heard the story. “On
tape?”
“Uh huh,” replied Nick. “Me and Schanke.”
“In all your glory,” smiled Nat, then burst out giggling. Nick
glared at her, which only made her giggle all the more. Sighing, he let
her wind down.
“Are we through?”, he said at last, arms crossed, as she collected
herself. “Nat, this is serious. I was seen there, at the same moment I
dreampt it. How the camera could do that I have no idea, but it did.”
“Well, the camera doesn’t lie,” said Nat. “I take it all back,
Nick. You were right, but what is Schanke trying to say?”
“Only that there’s danger, Nat. And that we have to get away, or
we’ll suffer some horrible fate.”
“The waste dump?” asked Nat. “Does he mean it’s going to blow up,
or something?”
“It can’t, Nat. A lot of what’s in there is spent reactor fuel,
waste from fuel production, medical waste. Only a fraction of it is
even bomb grade, from decommissioned nuclear weapons. It can’t chain
react, Nat.”
I hope.
“Then…well, could it be a meteorite impact? Hitting the dump, or
even Alpha?”
“I…I just don’t know, Nat. But Verdeschi has his eye on me.
Escaping unnoticed isn’t an option, I’m afraid.”
“Did he say anything about the bug?”
“No, though he must have found it, right away, Nat.”
“And there was no chance to hypnotize him?”
“Witnesses. I could tell we were being watched. Like our mirrored
interview rooms, back home, only on camera. I couldn’t risk it, Nat.”
“So how do we get away? Any ideas?”
“Not yet, Nat. I…I’m afraid I may have boxed us in this time. This
time, technology may well prove to be our undoing.”
“Hey, Nick, we’ll make it,” she said, getting to her feet, and
putting her arms around him. She looked up into his eyes. “Somehow,
we’ll get through this, and make it home. And we shall achieve the
goal, Nick.” She gently rocked him. “We’re halfway there, as it is.”
In his office, Tony opened his desk, and took out the tiny
listening device he had discovered on his person, after that last poker
game. Who, he wondered as he leaned forwards across the desk, was
spying on him?
“The unknown,” said LaCroix, voice wafting seductively from the
speaker. “A dangerous country, is it not, My Children?” Again, Nick was
tuned to CERK, in Toronto. “Many an explorer could testify to that, I
am sure. If only he could.” There was a pause, and Nick could almost
hear the malignant smile spreading over LaCroix’s face. “But then, none
of us knows what lies beyond the next bend in the river, or over the
next hill, do we? No more than Ericsson, Columbus, deGama, Cabrillo, or
Armstrong did. They accepted the risks, or were blind to them, but they
really didn’t know.”
“What the hell is he on to now?” asked Nat, looking up from her
desk.
“Not sure,” replied Nicholas. “He’s building up to something,
though.”
“So many have fallen in the pursuit of this will-o-the-wisp, this
Golden Fleece we call knowledge. One wonders if it is really worth it,
Dear Listeners. All it got Jason was dead friends, dead children, and a
close-up view of the bottom of his ship. Oh, science has given us some
wonderful things, to be sure. But, I ask you, are they worth the price?
Are they truly sufficient recompense for all the agony, all the heroic
suffering, that it took to realize them?”
“Just when I think he cannot possibly get any gloomier,” said Nat,
shaking her head.
“And the suffering continues, even in our own time, mes amis.”
LaCroix went on. “When we look up at the sky, and gaze upon the stars,
what do we see?” Nick bristled, at the inflection LaCroix put on the
word “stars”. It was a perfect imitation, allowing for the language
difference, of the way his sister said it, so long ago. She had told
LaCroix that the stars were her passion. Yes, he was tormenting Nick
over that episode, even now.
“Another ocean,” the old Roman continued, “upon whose waves the
brave explorers have breasted, and like those of olden time, some have
stepped off upon the shores of that land from whose bourne no traveler
returns. Just to get to the moon, how many have handed over their lives
in exchange for that Holy Grail, eh? The list, Nightcrawlers, is an
impressive one, indeed. The Apollo One crew, burnt to a crisp. The
Soyuz 11 cosmonauts, who found themselves suddenly short of breath on
the way home. The Apollo 13 crew, who very nearly joined them. The
brave, or should we read foolish? men and women of the Uranus Probe,
the Ultra Probe, Voyager, the Swift, and who knows how many others?”
LaCroix paused, and with their accentuated hearing, both vampires
could hear him sipping something. How perversely it must please the old
General, Nick thought, to be consuming the blood of his latest victim
live on the air. Certainly he knew that Nick would hear it and be
repulsed thereby, and would thus be pleased all the more.
Sick bastard, thought Natalie.
“Adventure,” LaCroix went on, “is not a game for the timid. Nor,
might I add, for the intelligent. Too much adventure, Dear Ones, is
like too much wine, even a fine, unsurpassed vintage. Too much, too
often, and for too long, and you are dead. Like the deep sea diver, or
the astronaut braving the wastes of space, you assume room temperature.
It takes a special sort to boldly go where no man has gone before,
Nightcrawlers. The trek should be left to them, and to them alone.”
“And not vampires,” said Nick.
“Remember that,” LaCroix resumed, “the next time you see a
recruiting poster for that shipwreck overhead, that presumption in the
sky, Moonbase Alpha, built upon the graves of so many. Keep that in
mind the next time wifey comes home, and tells you how much you can do
for mankind, up there.” Nick could hear the anger building up in
LaCroix’s voice, slowly replacing the sarcasm and vitriol. He knew his
Master well enough to know just who the arrow was aimed at.
“So, those of you out there in the night, you who are wise enough
to tell yourselves the truth, do so. Without delay. Do so, and come
home to those who miss you. Those who need you. Those who…” LaCroix’s
voice caught a moment. “…love you. Come home. All is forgiven.”
“Oh LaCroix, please,” muttered Nick.
“So, Listeners, you tell me. What thinkest thou, eh? Do we truly
belong there? The moon? Mars? The stars? Should our motto be ‘Ad
astra’ or should we remain, firmly rooted, upon ‘Terra Firma’? Talk to
me, people. Let me know. I’m waiting to hear from you. I’m here, for I
am The Nightcrawler.”
“Could he be involved in that anti-space movement?” asked Nat.
“Children of Gaia, or whatever the hell it is.”
“He sure sounds like it, Nat,” he answered, clipped. As he sat,
Nat could see the brittle anger on his face. The revelation that
LaCroix had had a hand in the deaths of Schanke and Cohen had shaken
Nick hard. Right to the core. But how? Vudu had been no vampire. How
had a psychotic serial bomber come to meet up with the likes of
LaCroix? He didn’t know, but one thing was quite certain. One day,
soon, he would find his cure, and return home. When that day dawned, he
would perform one final act as a vampire.
He would kill Lucien LaCroix. And this time, he would make damned
certain that he stayed dead.
Nat held her breath for almost a week, but there were no more
outbreaks of the mysterious illness, for which she sent up a tiny
prayer of thanks. Despite this, she was seriously wishing that she’d
gone in for OB-GYN, or maybe truck driving, as she and the rest of the
medical staff reviewed the evidence from the eight autopsies. It had
been different in Toronto. Finding out why people died helped bring
killers to justice. She could understand stab wounds, bludgeonings,
poison, bullets, hit and runs. But this…pestilence! It defied the best
medical minds available. People don’t die without a cause, Natalie told
herself, over and over. Cells do not suddenly mutate for no reason. But
cause and reason were proving as elusive here as the Fountain of Youth,
or the Philosopher’s Stone.
It all left Nat feeling thoroughly disgusted with the science of
medicine. It made her feel powerless. It made her feel useless.
Damn this disease! Damn it to hell!
The next day, Nat was able to get back to her experiments. Despite
her efforts, Helena had not found who had tampered with Nat’s
litoveuterine work. Very curious about it all by now, she inquired into
the exact nature of the research.
“Beef production?” asked Helena.
“I’m trying to engineer the litoveuterine to be useable in Human
tissue regeneration, Helena. Think about it. Massive organ damage
might, I say might, be repaired in situ, without the extensive surgery
or transplants that we depend on, now.”
“Not to mention the problem of rejection,” said Helena. “It’s a
fascinating approach, Natalie. The potential could be virtually
unlimited.”
“All part of having that MD after your name,” replied Nat,
checking a readout. “And if this…this illness continues, Helena, maybe
regenerating brain tissue might even be…”
Beep.
“Yes?” said Helena, into her commlock. It was Verdeschi.
“Doctor Russell?” asked Tony. “Can I see you in my office?”
“Sure, Tony. I’ll be there directly.” She terminated the
connection. “Nat, I…” She stopped, hesitating.
“Yes?”
“When I come back, I…I need to talk with you.” Her expression was
uncertain.
“Something wrong with my work, Helena?”
“No. Your work has been exemplary. The best. I just, well, when I
get back.”
“Sure, Helena. I’ll be here.” She watched her chief go, wondering.
Did Helena suspect something? What did she know? Did she, could she,
believe? Believe in vampires?
On a sudden inspiration, she crossed to Helena’s desk. Furtively,
she went through its contents. Much of it was typical, stuff a doctor
would have. A first-aid kit, personal letters and photos. She noticed a
shot of Helena, and a dark attractive man, in wedding attire, and
another of them on a beach somewhere.
Nat was surprised. She hadn’t realized that her chief had been
married. She had never hinted at it, and wore no wedding ring. Nat held
up another snap to the light, the same man in formal setting, which was
autographed: “To My Helena-All My Love, Lee”. Feeling like a common
burglar, Nat put it back, then noticed something else. Something
familiar.
A culture dish. The culture dish she had disposed of a long time
ago. The dish with her vampire blood in it…
“Oh shit,” she muttered, as it began to sink in. Helena knew. She
knew! How…
She pulled her commlock, and punched in Nick’s code. He answered
almost at once.
“We have a problem,” she told him.
“You’re certain?” asked Helena, seated across from Tony in his
office. She held copies of photos of Nick, from the N.Y. driver’s
license, an U.S. passport in the same name, the Chicago PD, as well as
Toronto. And, another photo his research had dug up, one of a group of
French Resistance fighters during World War II. The man on the left was
an absolute dead ringer for Nicholas.
“I am,” said Verdeschi. “I set the computer to search for photos
of anyone who looked like Dr. Barber. This one,” he indicated the
wartime shot, “was recently donated to the French National Archives, by
the family of an old Resistance fighter.” He put all the images up on a
screen. “Assuming his apparent age, Helena, our Dr. Barber is at least
a hundred years old.”
“But that’s not possible, Tony. Nick is not…” She stopped, as what
she’d seen of Nat clicked into place. If she…
“I don’t pretend to understand it, Helena,” Tony went on, “but I
cannot deny the evidence. Our Nicholas Barber has been Nicholas Knight,
Nicholas Forrester, Nicholas de Brabant, ad infinitum.”
“What have you done about it, Tony?”
“I’ve talked to him about it.” He explained his conversion with
Nick, and the images from Area Two. “He claims to know nothing about
any of it.”
“Well, it is kind of weird, Tony. Both in a security zone, and
naked to boot.”
“Yeah, well I can’t explain it, either. But the rest of this…” He
indicated the photo hardcopies.
“Have you talked to Commander Gorski, at all?”
“No. Considering his reluctance to forward anything substantive
about the stricken astronauts, I went over his head. I sent a short
report to Commissioner Simmonds, telling him that something had cropped
up, and could his office supply me with any additional data on him.”
“And did he?”
“No. Not a word back, Helena. He’s too damned worried about his
precious Meta Probe. Once it’s on its way, maybe. But, I did come up
with one additional tidbit.”
“And it is?”
“Nick has had a number of communications to and from Earth. Most
of them have been the same person.”
“Who?”
“A man named Lucien LaCroix. He lives in Toronto, and operates a
radio station, CERK. He broadcasts a nightly call-in show, the
Nightcrawler, from a nightclub called the Raven, which he also owns and
operates.”
“I have heard of it,” said Helena. “ My sister Melissa told me
about it, when she visited Toronto. Very ghoulish. But what’s his
connection to this little mystery?”
“In 1995, Lucien LaCroix was arrested in Toronto, on a charge of
First Degree Murder. An Egyptian national was found, get this, beheaded
in the Raven club, and stuffed in a beer fridge. All except the head.
That was in a cardboard box on the bar, lovingly wrapped in tissue
paper. The case was never solved, and the charge was dropped. The
arresting officer in the case?”
“I see.”
“Yeah. Toronto Homicide Detective Nicholas Knight.”
Helena headed back to Medical, determined to talk to Natalie.
Confront her with what she knew and now, sickeningly, suspected. She
wasn’t sure she could actually believe it, though. Yes, she had seen
what Nat had turned into. Seen her taste blood! Fresh blood. But…no!
No, it could not be!
She had not shared any of this with Tony. No doubt he’d never
believe any of it, and begin to think her mad. No, she’d just have to
do this on her own. Yes, her own. She would prepare…
Just how did you prepare to go and confront a vampire?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
September 1st, 1999
“Maybe,” said Nat, “it’s the new fly in the ointment of being a
vampire. This is the age of computers and ubiquitous electronic data
retrieval. Maybe…maybe we just can’t hide anymore.”
“Maybe you’re right, Nat,” replied Nick. “Maybe we boo-booed.
Maybe I boo-booed, in opting for Alpha.”
“Well, fifty percent of the blame goes to me, Nick. It was my idea
to respond to the recruiting ad.” She got up, pacing the room. “But
forget blame. If our cover’s blown,” she winced at the word, realizing
how melodramatic it sounded, “then we have to start working on our
escape.”
“Well, the cargo Eagles deadhead on the return leg, except when
they carry personnel rotating off of Alpha. We could stow away.”
“Until we’re missed, here,” said Nat. “And I can’t access the
schedule from Medical. Not without some major hacking, Nick. Too
risky.”
“Carter,” said Nick. “As senior pilot, he could pinch it for us,
Natalie.” He sat in silence for several seconds, then exploded out of
his seat. “Damn LaCroix!” he shouted, pounding on the wall. “You know
what, Nat? I’ll bet the Foundation he’s done this.”
“The spy?”
“More than that, Natalie. Verdeschi practically dared me to admit
that I’d been in Toronto. The only way he could do that was if he had
evidence.”
“But you removed all that from the Toronto PD database after you
left, though.”
“Yes. Only the notation of my service, and pay records. No photo
ID, no fingerprints, nothing. I had Larry Merlin rip it all out.”
“Only now someone’s put it back in.”
“Exactly. And who else, Nat, but LaCroix? He tried to destroy my
life, as Knight. He interfered back when I was one of Shakespeare’s
Lord Chamberlain’s Men. He’s at it again.”
“Yeah, planting your watch on that murder victim in Toronto. I
remember, Nick.”
“And now it’s the same thing, all over again. Putting clues and
information about Knight back into the system, the seeing that
Verdeschi has a trail to follow.”
“And his spy seeing to it that Verdeschi gets some crumbs.”
“That, or relying on Tony being the naturally suspicious type,
Nat. Somehow, somewhere, I slipped up. Gave the game away.”
“Then…”
“I’ve put you in danger, Nat.”
“Poppycock and bullshit, Nick. We’re not sunk yet. Besides, I
asked for this danger. Remember? I’ve been asking for it ever since
you got up off the slab in my morgue. We share it, together. For now,
the problem is how do we get out of it? I believe it was Sir Thomas
More who said that our natural business lies in escaping.”
“And for vampires, it’s often true.” He sighed again. “Well,
first, I’m going to check some databases back home, Nat. I…”
“No, Nick. I will.” He made to protest. “No, I’m still the same
Natalie listed on my birth certificate, Nick. I don’t have any past to
hide, yet. I’ll do it. And I know just where to start.”
All the way back to their quarters, Nat cursed, as only those with
Slavic blood can. All of Nick’s files and records were back in the
Toronto PD computer system. What had once been almost totally excised
was now back, in all its digital glory. But that wasn’t all.
On a hunch, she discovered that Verdeschi had gone further. The
news footage of Nick, on the steps of the 96th Precinct building after
Vudu had bombed it, had been requested, and a copy transmitted. Not to
mention that egregious episode of Cop Watch. And, were that not enough,
old black and white newsreel film of Nick, as Professor Girard, back in
’54, testifying before the House Un-American Activities Committee. All
sent to one Tony Verdeschi, Chief of Security, Moonbase Alpha.
Damnation!
And damn LaCroix! Nat had not thought it possible to hate someone
so much. Certainly not that she could hate LaCroix any more than she
already did. But she was learning that it was, and she could. And if
Nicholas intended to kill his Master, then he had one very big problem.
He’d have to get in line!
September 4th, 1999
Again and again, over the next couple of days, Nick felt for
certain that he was being shadowed. But the shadow was no vampire, of
that he could be certain. He could sense Natalie in that fashion, and
no one else.
Nat had the same sense, and oiled her trap accordingly. She had
stayed in her lab, concealed in a storage closet, waiting. Since Alpha
had not been built as a military facility, there was little in the way
of internal monitoring, save in the brig, or the isolation wards. So,
on a Lambert-inspired hunch, she hid out, an active commlock tucked
away on a shelf.
The hunch paid off. About 0300 hours Lunar Time, an image appeared
on the tiny screen of the commlock she held inside the closet. Someone
was sneaking into her lab, stealthily heading for her experiment bench.
From the way the intruder moved, Nat could see it was a woman. She
hovered over the bench, scrutinizing Nat’s work, then looked at a
readout on a monitor. She looked about furtively, then erased the data.
A few moments later, she picked up a beaker, and sniffed its contents,
then stiffened as she heard the locker open. She whirled…
Only no one was there.
“It’s water,” said Nat, and the intruder whirled about again, to
see her where no one had been a moment before, then froze. “Figured you
might be back. It’s all safely somewhere else, and the data’s backed
up.” She hit the lights.
The intruder responded by shoving Natalie away, sending her
sprawling across a table. In an eyeblink, Nat was up, blocking her
escape, eyes blazing angrily, fangs bared.
“What the hell are you?” cried the intruder, face a total mask of
fear.
“Who?” demanded Nat. “Who’s paying you to…?”
But she got no further. In a move of surprising swiftness for a
mortal, the intruder raised a weapon and fired point blank. Nat saw
only a blinding yellow flash, and felt herself hurled backwards, pain
ripping through her. The next thing she knew, she was looking up into
the face of Helena Russell.
And Helena was jumping back, face a rictus of shock, as Nat rose
up from the floor.
“Sweet Mother of God!” exclaimed Helena, eyes riveted on her
fellow medico. Nat’s eyes were ablaze, her fangs down, as she gazed
around the room, trying to remember what had happened.
“No! Don’t” she cried, as Helena reached for her commlock.
“Please, Helena,” she beseeched her chief, as it all came back to her.
“I give you my word. I won’t hurt you.”
On the Far Side, the Meta Probe training flight had just passed
over Navigation Beacon Delta. Below, the temperature inside the waste
dump edged up a few more degrees. Above, deep inside one of the
astronaut’s brains, something started to change.
“I…I can’t believe this,” said Helena, almost in a whisper. She
stood, framed by one of the windows, looking at Nat. For her part, Nat
had returned to her normal appearance, and changed her uniform, burned
by the point-blank hit. Upon rising from the dead, Nat had, as Nick had
in her presence long ago, reached for blood. Once she was full, she
could feel the regeneration of her tissues speed up. Then, head
clearer, she tried to make Helena forget what she’d just seen.
And failed. Helena was, she discovered, a resister. Perhaps Nick,
with his greater powers, might be able to accomplish it, but not she.
“Believe me, Helena. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to find
a cure. A cure for what I’ve become.” She watched Helena as she paced
the room, at last finding a chair.
“But…Vampires, Nat? How? I just don’t see how such a thing could
be possible. It’s…legend. Folklore. It can’t have any basis in
scientific…” She trailed off, realizing the obvious error of this
assessment. Nat tried to explain to her the medical and biochemical
aspects of the affliction as she understood them, Helena nodding as she
absorbed it all. She, in return, told Nat of what she’d seen, and her
examination of both the culture dish, and the bloodstained plastic
shard.
“I didn’t want to believe my eyes,” said Helena. “I couldn’t. I
could not bring myself to…” She stopped, as Nat’s commlock beeped. She
keyed the door and Nick entered. She filled him in, and he swore
softly.
“Doctor Russell,” said Nick, “you must realize that silence is
imperative. Our survival depends upon…”
“I would never try and harm…”
“I do not mean you specifically, Doctor,” said Nick, and explained
the Enforcers. “If they were to learn that you know, they would kill
you, Doctor. They would find you, and silence you.”
“Even up here?” Helena asked, almost in a whisper.
“I would not discount it, Doctor,” Nick answered, gravely. He
watched the CMO get up again, pacing.
“I…I’ve gone from not believing, to having a…no, two, make that
two, vampires in my Medical Center. I don’t know how much more of this
I can absorb.”
“We are not a threat to you, Helena,” said Nat, taking her chief’s
hand. “Nor to any of Alpha’s personnel. We brought plenty of our…food
with us. That’s the whole reason for the blood substitute technology
work. So that we will never, ever, have to kill any living thing
again.”
“We hate what we are, Helena,” said Nicholas. “I have hated it
almost from the very hour that I became what I am.”
“And how…long ago was that?” she asked carefully, unsure she
really wanted to know the answer.
“It was The Year Of Our Lord 1228,” said Nick, and gave her a
brief sketch. Of his taking the Cross to avoid trial on a charge of
murder, a murder of which he was innocent. Of his meeting Janette on
the way home from the Holy Land, Janette the darkly sensuous vampire
who had seduced him, and led him to his doom. Of his foolish acceptance
of LaCroix’s offer, and his self-loathing ever since.
“And you?” asked Helena, of Nat. “When I saw you in New York at
the medical convention, it was in the daylight, Natalie. You were
normal.”
“I have only been a vampire for the last four years, Helena.”
“She was dying,” said Nick. “It was either bring her across, or
let her die.” Nick stood up. “Now, who was it, Nat? Who tried to murder
you?”
“It was one of the science staff, Nick. Helena.”
“Who?” asked Helena.
“Carolyn Powell.”
Carolyn Powell was a recently assigned technician, in one of the
Medical Center’s labs. Competent and capable, she was nonetheless low
on the popularity list. Tetchy, egocentric, and possessing something of
a mean streak, she made it difficult to work with her. Some on Alpha
said that her position and appointment had less to do with her
scientific acumen, real as it was, and more to do with her mother’s
maiden name having been Simmonds.
But not too loudly.
Nick, Nat, and Helena stood outside her quarters. She did not
answer, so Helena punched in the emergency medical override code, and
the door slid obediently open for them.
“Hey!” exclaimed Powell, coming bolt upright in bed. “What the
hell do you…” She stopped as she saw Natalie, apparently none the worse
for being shot dead, fear spreading over her features.
“Surprised?” asked Natalie, deadpan. “Who, Carolyn?”
“I…”
“Who paid you to sabotage our work, Carolyn? Who? Was it LaCroix?”
“I don’t…”
“Who was it?” Nat asked again, and turned on the hypnotism. “Who,
Carolyn? Who paid you?” For a moment, silence reigned.
“I…I was paid by a man named Lucien LaCroix,” said Carolyn,
slowly, her face blank. “He paid me to ruin Natalie’s experiments.”
“Why?” asked Helena. “Why would this LaCroix do this?”
“He didn’t say,” Carolyn droned on, mind still obediently numb.
“He just paid me.”
“How much?” asked Nick.
“Fifty thousand U.S. dollars. In a Swiss account. I was to
sabotage her work, then…”
Beep.
It was Tony. The emergency medical override of the door had
brought Security, and Helena explained the attack upon Natalie in the
lab. Carolyn was still fogged, but Tony was implacable.
He was going to take Nick into custody.
“Tony,” said Helena, “You can’t. He…”
“I have to, Helena. Nick is here under a false identity, in
violation of the law. You know the problem we’ve had with terrorism,
recently. I have to do this. It’s my job.”
“Tony, he saved Doctor Vincent’s life. You’re only standing here
because of him! How the hell can you treat him like this?”
“You think I don’t know that, Helena?” snapped Tony. “That’s why I
haven’t called the Commander in on this, yet. It’s why I came alone. I
wanted to get Nick’s story, first.”
“And what about Carolyn’s attack on me?” demanded Nat later, in
Tony’s office. “Isn’t attempted murder slightly illegal, too?”
“It is, and she’s confined to her quarters for the moment. But
you, Doctor,” he said, looking at Nick, “or whoever you are, have some
explaining to do.” He held out the photos he’d dug up of Nick from New
York, Chicago, et al. When Nick did not take them, he let them fall to
his desk.
“Tony,” said Helena.
“Not done yet,” he said, and called up a file on his terminal. It
was the news footage of Nick, from Toronto. As it played, Tony watched
the two vampires, studying their expressions. He let a tiny smile of
victory cross his face. Yes, it said. I have you! “Well?”
“I have nothing to say,” was Nick’s clipped reply.
“Uh huh.” Tony hit a control. “Captain Reese? Detective Vetter?”
Oh shit!!!
Merde!!!
“We’re here, Chief Verdeschi,” came a familiar voice. One of the
wall monitors behind Tony switched from the Alpha test pattern to an
image of Joe Reese, Nick’s Captain in Toronto, following the deaths of
Schanke and Cohen. The policeman looked at his former detective,
obviously shocked. “Nick? What in God’s Name are you doing up there?”
“Hello, Captain,” said Nick, slowly.
“Nick?” said another voice, and the camera pulled back to show
Detective Tracy Vetter, sitting next to her Chief, in his office.
“What’s going on?” After a moment, she recognized Nat. “Natalie?”
“So, you do recognize him,” said Verdeschi, with another smirk.
“Yeah,” said Reese. “Nick Knight, one of my best homicide
detectives. What the hell you doing on the moon, Nick?”
“Natalie,” asked Tracy, voice thick with worry, “are you guys in
trouble?”
Tracy Vetter, ever the mistress of understatement.
“You might say that, Miss Vetter,” replied Tony. “In fact…”
“They’re here because of me,” interjected Helena, suddenly.
Thud.
“Excuse me?” said Tony, clearly taken aback.
“I knew Nat, before. I helped to arrange their coming here,
through connections in Commissioner Simmonds’ office.”
“Helena,” said Tony, clearly irritated at being caught off-guard
this way. “Why didn’t you tell me this, before?”
“I asked her not to,” said Nick. “I had to leave, Captain,” he
went on, turning back to Reese. “I was burned out, there. And…I was in
danger.”
“Danger? Who from, Nick?”
“I can’t tell you, Captain. I couldn’t tell anyone. I saw
something I shouldn’t have, and had to go into the witness protection
program. Captain, Tracy, I’m really am sorry, but it was necessary. I
got a new identity, and ended up here on Alpha.”
“Where safer than the moon, Captain? Trace?” said Nat. “The
baddies can’t reach us, up here.”
Ha, ha, thought Nat. Right.
Tony looked at them all, glowering. It was a limp excuse, and he
knew it. But…
“Captain Reese, Detective Vetter,” said Tony, his irritation ill-
concealed, “I think that’s all for now, but I may need to speak with
you again.”
“Is Nick under arrest, Mr. Verdeschi?” asked Tracy. “Nick, if you
need a character witness, I’m here. And there’s Miller, and Captain
Stonetree, and…”
“Miss Vetter…”
“Detective Vetter,” corrected Tracy, with an arch to her lovely
neck. “Look, Nick is…was, the best cop I’ve ever worked with, Mister
Verdeschi. He’s saved my life, more than once. He saved thousands of
Toronto citizens from being blown to bits by a mad bomber.”
“Detec…”
“And he’s brought more criminals to book than you can shake one of
your Eagles at, buster!!!” Tracy was nearly out of her seat, knuckles
white on the arms.
“Tracy, calm down,” said Reese.
“Well, Nick is my friend, Captain, and I won’t let some twit…”
“Tracy, calm down!” said Reese, voice laced with authority, then
turned back to Verdeschi. “So, what’s the quid pro quo here, then?”
“Well, in light of this,” Verdeschi looked to Helena, “I’ll have
to get back to you, Captain Reese.”
“Right. You take care of yourself, Nick. Good to see you, again.”
“And you, Captain. Tracy,” he replied, and the link was cut.
“Tony,” said Helena. “I…”
“Your tale may have worked on Reese and Vetter, Nick, but I’m not
buying it.”
“And I’m not selling it, Verdeschi. What about the attack on my
wife?” asked Nick. “Are you going to do anything about that?”
“Oh I definitely will, Nick.” Verdeschi rose, fists on the desk,
and looked straight at Nick. “Carolyn is…”
“You are going to forget about this, Tony,” said Nick, looking
into his eyes. “Do you understand? Our pasts are exactly as we…”
They were all interrupted by the blaring of a crash alarm, and
calls for all medical personnel to report at once. Nick’s hypnotism was
cut off in mid-thought, as they all leapt into action.
“What is it?” asked Helena, at once at the commpost.
“It’s the Probe astronauts, Helena,” came Vincent’s voice. “Their
training ship crashed, just short of the base.”
And they all ran out of Tony’s office, all other matters forgotten
for the moment.
“What the hell’s going on, Tracy?” asked Joe Reese after the
connection was broken. “Nick, our Nick, on the moon?”
“And married to Natalie, too. I figured they had a thing going,
but I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Me neither.” He picked up the phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“I know someone in the Crown Prosecutor’s Office, Tracy. He’s got
mega connections, and he owes me a really big favor.”
“Crown Prosecutor? How big?”
“Nick and I rescued his wife and baby from kidnappers.”
“Oh boy. That big.”
“Yeah. I’m going to find out about Nick and this witness thing.”
“Nicholas, I really am flattered,” said LaCroix, on the screen. “I
may set up an Alpha line for the show.”
“Shut up, LaCroix,” spat Nick. “I didn’t call to listen to your
flip humor.”
“I beg your pardon,” said LaCroix slowly, that cold, dangerous
look coming into his eyes. One never…
“I said shut your damned mouth, LaCroix,” Nick snarled back. “This
time you’ve gone too far. Even for you.” Somewhat to LaCroix’s
surprise, Nicholas had switched languages, addressing him in Latin.
“And what precisely, may I ask,” said the ancient vampire in the
same tongue, oh so icily, “does that mean?”
“It wasn’t enough that you pay someone here to spy on me. Or hire
someone to sabotage our work. Now they’ve tried to kill Natalie, and
exposed us.” Nick was furious. LaCroix could see the veins standing out
on his forehead.
“Exposed?” asked LaCroix, clearly interested now. “How?”
“Carolyn Powell! She shot Natalie down, LaCroix! Laser set on
kill. She returned from the dead in Medical Center! With witnesses.” He
was shouting now.
“Calm yourself, Nicholas. I assure you, I had nothing to do with
any of that,” said LaCroix, clearly keeping his ire in check.
“You’re lying, LaCroix. I don’t believe you.” He pointed to his
Master, a quarter million miles away. “If you ever interfere again, you
know what I’ll do.”
“And that is, might I ask?” came the icy reply, almost a
challenge.
“I know what you did to Schanke’s plane, LaCroix. I know of your
involvement with Vudu.” He watched LaCroix’s eyebrows go up. Clearly
this had surprised the old General. “Why?”
“Nicholas…”
“WHY???” roared Nick.
“You were supposed to be on the plane, Nicholas,” said LaCroix at
last, quietly. “Not Schanke. You would have survived, just as Vachon
did.”
“At the cost of over…”
“We have been through all this before, Nicholas. You are mine! Do
you hear me? My son, my creation!” The elder vampire’s eyes glowed,
bulging. “Janette was gone, you should have returned to me! It was your
duty to return to me! It was only after you, YOU, boy, traded places
with Schanke that he was put in peril. Had you been where you should
have been…well, it is done, Nicholas.”
“No,” hissed Nick. “No it is not, you son of a bitch.”
“Nicholas…”
“You are a murderous piece of filth, LaCroix. Garbage. Natalie and
I are very, very close. When we return to Earth, we will step off into
the sunlight. Cured.”
“Nonsense, Nicholas. You and Nata…”
“We will. And you will do nothing to hinder us, LaCroix. Do you
hear me? Nothing.”
“I do not take kindly to threats, Nicholas!” growled LaCroix, his
anger rising again. “You will not address me…”
“I will address you in any fashion I choose, you…you chankered
goat’s pizzle. Hear me, and hear me well, Lucius Pontius Pilatus!”
rasped Nick, fury barely in check. “One more attempt. One more try at
hindering either of us, and I will expose everything.”
LaCroix sat, stone-faced, fuming. He hated being reminded of his
old Roman name, or of the infamous man who had been his father. But he
disliked this insolence even more. The pup! How dare he speak to his
Master this way!
“And just what do you mean?” he asked at last.
“Just what I said. I’ll expose it all.”
“Then you expose yourself! Think of that, boy!”
“I have. And it would be worth it, LaCroix. Not only will I reveal
who and what I am, but I’ll expose you, for who and what you are.” He
saw the moment of fear in his Master’s face. “Yes. You. You and the
whole Community. The Enforcers. All of it, LaCroix. Every name, every
lair. All of it.”
“You would not dare.”
“I would, you damned reprobate! And I will, unless I have your
cooperation.” Silence. “Agreed?”
“Nicholas…”
“ARE WE AGREED???”
Nicholas enjoyed saying those words, as once, long ago, LaCroix
had said them to him, in the argument over his younger sister, Fleur.
He’d wanted Fleur, lusted after her, wished to bring her across. He’d
had Nick over a barrel, then. The future, versus Fleur’s life. Now,
Nick could return the favor, and for vastly higher stakes. The entire
vampire race.
Nick waited, enjoying the look of impotent fury on his Master’s
face. Even at a quarter million miles, he could sense the rage and
conflict in LaCroix, through their link.
“Agreed,” hissed LaCroix, through barely parted lips, jaw clenched
tightly. A look of defeat came over him, and his shoulders fell. The
old General was beaten, and he knew it. “Agreed.”
“Very well,” said Nick. “Goodbye, LaCroix. Burn in hell, Diable!”
He hit the button terminating the link, and sat back, letting out
a great, pent-up sigh. There, he told himself. It was done. The final,
ultimate, irrevocable break with his past. It was finally done.
Astronauts Frank Warren and Eric Sparkman were rushed to Medical,
the latest victims of the mystery disease. Like all the others before
them, they had gone berserk, plowing their specially modified Eagle
into the ground, a few hundred yards short of the base. Now, in the
isolation ward, they were just like the all the rest. Blank, staring,
totally unresponsive.
Cabbages.
Alan Carter was angry. Eric and he had been RAAF pilots together,
and were great friends. Before, it had all been just pilots. Just
astronauts. Some other guys. Now, it was close to home. And personal.
Carolyn was let out, and returned to duty, rather foggy on the
events of the previous evening, or why Tony had been questioning her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t remember why the Doctors Barber were so
angry with her. Did they know?
“I understand,” said LaCroix, reluctantly. The two large,
anonymous vampires in his apartment were stone-faced, implacable, and
Enforcers. He remembered them, of course. That annoying little matter
of Sullivan, the Civil War photographer who had been unfortunate enough
to capture him at feeding time. Nicholas, with all his compassionate,
moralistic whining, had been unable to take care of the situation, so
they had been called in. Now, as then, the ghoulish pair made even his
flesh crawl. Gods on Olympus, didn’t that one on the right ever look
normal?
“The Community felt it owed you this courtesy,” said one. “He is,
after all, your son.”
“And greatest disappointment,” replied LaCroix, nodding sadly.
“Very well. Who? No! Do not tell me. Just do it.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” said a third voice. Its owner stepped
out of the shadows. LaCroix took an involuntary breath of surprise. She
was tall, extremely beautiful, and had long, golden-blonde hair. “I
will, Lucien.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
September 5th, 1999
John Koenig looked out over his class, and sighed. Teaching, he
decided, was not really his forte. Oh he was good at it, to be sure,
but he would have much preferred…
No. He would not go there. He was a teacher now, for the present
at least, and that was that. After the Ultra Probe debacle, he was
lucky to have a job with the Space Commission at all. Here, teaching
celestial mechanics to astronaut trainees, he could at least remain
close to the space program. Certainly, if this year’s crop of students
were anything to judge by, it’s future was in good hands.
“Alright, that’s it,” he said, rising. “Don’t forget, class. Test
tomorrow. Hohmann orbits.” He gathered up his stuff, and watched the
students file out, then returned to his office. Math, he decided,
letting his gaze linger on Jean’s picture, was okay, but
engineering…that was what he really liked teaching. His next class was
a real “hands on” kind of education. Avionics. Guidance systems. The
“real” stuff. And there were going to be some exciting new things in
that area, coming on-line soon. He would enjoy sharing these with his
students. He was just about to leave for his next class when his cell
phone beeped. He looked at the clock. Funny. Who could…
“Yes?”
“Doctor Koenig?” said a female voice. “Commissioner Simmonds’
office calling, sir.”
Helena was disgusted. Two more victims, and not a single new clue.
Her medical team was working around the clock, but so far fruitlessly.
As she monitored the patient’s vital signs, Nat, with her vampiric
hearing, could hear her chief and Mathias going at it, hammer and tongs
it appeared, with Commander Gorski. After a bit, she turned away,
shaking her head.
“So stupid,” she muttered. It’s just so f…”
“What is?” asked Vincent. “Oh. Right.”
“The Commander. Gorski’s a scientist, for crying out loud. Why is
he acting like a…well, we all know why.”
“Simmonds,” said Vincent, nodding. “Have you ever met him,
Natalie?”
“No. I’ve heard a lot about him, of course.”
“And not much good, I suspect. Not a pleasant fellow, our dear
Commissioner. The man is a political animal from the word go.”
“I hate people like that,” snorted Natalie, pulling a blood sample
from a centrifuge. “ I really do. They have their own unique system of
non-Euclidean geometry.”
“What?” he asked, brow furrowing. “Geometry?”
“The shortest distance between any two points will always be an
angle.”
“Well put, Natalie. Yes, that our Commissioner. If it came down to
saving someone advantageous to himself, or his own mother, you can
guess who he’d pick.”
“Uhhh…gee,” said Nat. “I dunno??”
“You really do a superlative Mortimer Snerd, Natalie.”
“It’s a gift.”
“What do you want of me, Commissioner?” asked Koenig, sitting
across from Simmonds at the very ritzy, and very expensive, 21 Club, in
New York.
“How’s teaching, John? This term’s students shaping up, are they?”
As usual, Simmonds maneuvered, like a shark, round and round, before
getting to the point.
“They’re fine, Commissioner. All have excellent marks, so far, but
the semester’s just begun. What can I do for you?”
“You’ve heard about the …astronaut virus infection, up on Alpha.”
Not a question.
“I’ve heard something. Vague rumors, mostly. What’s that got to do
with me?”
“Well, as I’m sure you are aware, Commander Gorski has done a
splendid job as Alpha Commander, John. Really first rate.”
“So I’ve heard. The Meta Probe launch complex was refitted and put
back on-line in record time, as well as under budget. No mean feat, all
things considered.”
“Quite.”
Okay, thought Koenig. Now?
“But?”
“But, this new wrinkle, John. The virus infection.” Simmonds
leaned forward, slowly. “It’s going to toss a spanner into the works,
if we’re not careful.”
“Gorski…”
“Is tired, John. Unremitting hard work, and now this.”
Ah.
“Alpha needs a …a fresh face, John.”
“Commissioner, I don’t…”
“I’m tapping you, John. I’m tapping you for the job. The next
Commander of Moonbase Alpha.”
Thud.
“But…”
“You owe me, Koenig,” said Simmonds, mood subtly shifting, eyes
flinty. “You really do.”
Damn him! thought Koenig. Damn him all to…
“After all,” Simmonds went on, back to his usual reptilian
silkiness, leaning back, “remembering the Commission’s recommendation,
after the Ultra…”
“I know, I know,” said Koenig. “You circular-filed their
recommendation, and I didn’t find myself out of a job.”
So I could be your tool, he told himself. And now the bill comes
due.
“And you’ve done remarkably well, John, as an instructor and
engineer, confirming my faith in you.” There was a glint in Simmonds’
eye. He hated being interrupted. “The astrogation system in the new
Eagles shows marked improvements. But…” Simmonds leaned forward again.
“I need you, up there, John. On Alpha.”
“I…see.”
“Get this problem cleared up, John. Get things back on track,
before we loose our optimum launch window for Meta. Do…” He stopped as
the waiter brought their meals.
Koenig noticed how very un-kosher Simmonds’ choice was. Escargot.
As a Jew, Koenig had been brought up in a strictly kosher home. As an
adult he did not practice, but could not help wondering. Had Simmonds
ordered that, just to annoy him? To rub his superior position in his
face? He knew that the Commissioner cared not one whit for the
sensibilities of others. Such things were irrelevant in his world. The
man would walk naked through a convent, if he felt that it would serve
to advance his ambitions! He certainly didn’t give a damn about the
Mosaic dietary…
“Do this,” said Simmonds, tucking into his meal, “and we can
forget all about the past, John. A clean slate.”
In spite of his deep distrust of Simmonds, Koenig undeniably,
almost unwillingly, felt the pull. Space! It was what he’d lived for,
once. Born the same year as Sputnik, he had followed the space program
religiously as a boy. At the age of twelve, watching the fuzzy images
on his parent’s old black and white Magnavox of Neil Armstrong stepping
off onto the lunar surface, he’d realized what it was that he wanted to
do with his life. Had to do. Unlike Walter, he could not follow their
father to Yeshiva, and be yet another Rabbi Koenig. He honored his
ancestral traditions of course, revering the memory of their great-
grandfather, and the twenty-two other relatives who had died in
Hitler’s death camps, but he could never be bound by them. For John
Robert Koenig, the motto could never be Sh’ma Yisrael, rather it would,
always, be Ad Astra.
And Commander, too. He’d be up there, doing it. Taking charge!
He’d ossified, no, fossilized, in a classroom. Like an athlete too long
inactive, he needed to get up and get moving again. But…
“What about the illness? The virus? What’s the latest word on the
men?”
“Doctor Russell has things well in hand, John. She and her staff
are doing a splendid job, and hold out great hopes for the men.”
“That’s good to hear. Both Frank and Eric were students of mine.
Friends. It’ll be good to see them back on their feet again.”
“Of course,” said Simmonds, avuncularly. “Alpha’s yours, John. For
as long as you want it.” The Commissioner smiled, without really
smiling. And you owe me, his expression said, without a word being
spoken. You owe me. “After that…”
I’ll still owe you, thought Koenig. He liked Gorski, really, even
though he’d met him only briefly at a science conference, shortly
before he was appointed Commander. The man was far from being
incompetent, as Simmonds was hinting at behind his kind words. But…
“Alright, Commissioner,” said Koenig, swallowing a mouthful of
salad, with a pride dressing. “You’ve got it.”
“Splendid,” said Simmonds, and he smiled. Koenig just hated that
glow of victory in the Commissioner’s eyes. He felt sure that there was
something Simmonds wasn’t telling him, something he was keeping back.
Total and open honesty was not, ever, Gerald Simmonds’ way. “When can
you get started?”
“I have my afternoon class,” Koenig went on, “and I have things to
clear up here, before I go.”
“How long will you require?”
“Oh…by Friday.”
“Thursday, John. The ninth.”
“I can do that,” nodded Koenig, after a moment’s consideration.
“Yes.”
“Splendid,” said Simmonds again, and raised his glass, clinking
Koenig’s. “To the new Commander of Moonbase Alpha.”
“To the Meta Probe,” amended Koenig, with a smile. As he looked
over the edge of his wine glass at Simmonds, he couldn’t help but
wonder if he wasn’t making a very big mistake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Nick?” said Nat, that evening in their rooms. “What did you dig
out of her?”
“I didn’t have a lot of time, but it wasn’t Verdeschi, but Carolyn
bugging us. She was humping one of the guys in Security. That’s how she
got the stuff. Once she had it, she broke up with him. That’s what the
fracas in the Solarium was about, remember?”
“Yeah. What a piece of work, that one,” said Nat, shaking her
head. “And once she’d dumped him, he couldn’t very well expose her for
swiping security equipment. She and LaCroix are of a type, for sure.
Get anything on how he met her, Nick?”
“All I know is that she visited the Raven, once. I got that,
clearly. Then Dr. Vincent came in, and I had to break off.” He was
quiet a moment, then: “Nat, I can’t shake the feeling of danger. Even
with Carolyn neutralized. Real danger.”
“Exposure? I don’t think Helena would break her word, Nick. She’s
a woman of honor.”
“Oh I agree. We can trust her, Nat. She jumped in, in Tony’s
office to cover for us. No, it’s not Helena I meant.”
“Then it’s not just me.”
“You, too?” asked Nick, surprised.
“Yeah. Look, I’m not buying into dreams, visions, and visits from
the beyond, you understand, but I’ve got that feeling, too. Something’s
wrong, and it’s building.”
“But we can’t skip yet, Nat. Not until we can cover this, or
hypnotize enough people.”
“Could we stow away on an Eagle home?”
“I though of that, but the security is too tight, after that
terrorist thing last year. I’ll talk to Alan again about maybe fixing
some things for us.” He sighed. “And the cure.”
“And the cure, Nick,” she nodded, emphatically. “We’re close. Too
damn close. I don’t intend to give up, now that we’re in the home
stretch.”
“And we won’t, Nat,” he said, putting his arms around her, “but we
can’t just skip, without a place to disappear to, and fast.”
“Could Aristotle or Feliks Twist help?”
“I’ll try and get in touch, but I suspect Verdeschi’s monitoring
my communications. I’ll have to see, Nat.”
“Right. Oh, have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Rumor has it that Gorski’s being replaced.”
“Uh oh. Who by?”
“I don’t know, Nick. Let’s hope it’s not some political hack.”
“Amen to that,” said Nicholas.
On the Far Side, deep within the containment spheres of Area One,
the heat continued to rise.
“To hell with this,” said Doctor Russell, in her lab. She’d gone
over the test results on Frank and Eric for what seemed the twentieth
time. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Nihil. “Victor?” she called into her commlock.
A moment or two later the old academic came on.
“Yes, Helena?”
“Can you put me a team together? People from your department.”
“Of course. What for?”
“I’m going out to Area Two myself, Victor. I’m going to check
those radiation seals in person. With my own hands, if I have to.”
“You have something new, Helena?”
“No. That’s just it. I’ve been over all the data again, and I can
find nothing besides radioactivity that could have caused this.”
“But…”
“Remote sensors and cursory checks don’t cut it, Victor. I’m going
out there, and rip those hatch covers off myself, if I have to. You
with me?”
“Gorski will never approve it.”
“Which is why I’m not telling him. I’m doing this on my own
initiative.” She waited as Victor pondered.
“I can think of one or two here, yes. Steiner and Nordstrom. Jim
Nordstrom used to work at Area Two in fact. He’ll be a perfect choice.”
“Good. Get them together. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“Right,” said Victor. “I’ll get on it.” He clicked off, and looked
back down at the old photo album he’d been perusing when Helena had
called. He touched the yellowing old black-and-white snap of himself,
back in ’61. Damn, he thought, briefly. Back when I had hair. With all
that had gone on of late, he’d had little time to ponder his own
personal mystery. Now, he’d found it. An old snap of himself, back
then…
And one Professor Nicholas Forrester.
“My my,” he said aloud. “Haven’t we aged well, Professor.”
September 9th 1999
Come the morning, Helena and Victor were ready. Only, they didn’t
leave as planned. Gorski called another science staff meeting, which
drug on for several hours. Nat was slated to go with them, but an
accident in technical, plus an early labor for one of the ladies in
hydroponics decided Helena on leaving her here. Nat actually felt
touched. Despite knowing what she was, her chief trusted her.
Trust. Honor. Oh, why the hell wasn’t Helena Commander? Or better
yet, Commissioner?
While Nat was tending to the injured and expectant, Nick was
shuttling up to the Meta Probe Launch Platform. The ship had left its
construction dock late last night, under minimal power, and would be
arriving about 23:00 Lunar time. Both Victor and Helena’s departments
had cleared the synthesizer for use, and Gorski had given the go to
installing the machine aboard. Nick would oversee it’s installation,
while Ouma would be running final checks on the ship’s computer
systems, and Vincent seeing to the rest of the medical facilities and
supplies.
As Victor and Helena passed over Area One, John Koenig’s Eagle
took to the air. Aside from the new Commander, the ship carried cargo,
chiefly medical supplies and food, replacement parts for the computer,
and…
One extra passenger.
“Coffee, Commander?” asked the stewardess, as the Eagle moved away
from Earth.
“Thank-you,” said Koenig, and took the proffered cup. Just then
the pilot, Kelly, informed him of a call from Earth. Commissioner
Simmonds. The stewardess retreated to her little cubicle, sparing one
last glance at Koenig. “What about Commander Gorski?” she heard Koenig
ask, then turned to the tiny storage locker. Inside, her predecessor
was still safely tucked away. If only she’d had time to dispose of the
evidence, the old-fashioned way. But, ultimately, it didn’t really
matter.
She looked in the mirror, and tucked a stray strand of hair back
under her wig. So far, so good. She checked the other woman. Still well
under. She was tempted for a moment, as a twang of hunger made itself
known, to…
But no. An Enforcer did not leave tell-tales. In a few hours, the
woman would awake, oblivious to all, just like the pilots already were.
But by then, it would no longer be of any importance whatsoever.
She felt a tingle, a slight one, the tell-tale hint of another of
her kind. Yes. She was getting close! She hit the tiny monitor in her
cubicle. The Meta Probe was just docking with the Launch Complex, in
high lunar orbit. Ah! There!
“Soon, Nicholas,” she whispered, watching the two craft link up.
“Soon.”
Nat was on the way back to her quarters, when she spied Commander
Gorski ahead in the corridor. She had decided to avoid him, when
instead he turned and saw her.
Damn.
“Doctor Barber,” he said, politely.
“Commander.”
“I presume you’ve heard,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes. I’m sorry, Commander,” Nat replied. “It hardly seems fair,
like this. Being so abrupt, I mean.”
“Well, perhaps it is all for the best, Natalie,” shrugged Gorski.
“At least I shall be able to take care of my garden, now. As well as my
ulcer.” He attempted a wan smile, and Natalie smiled back.
“We’ll keep working on it, Commander,” she told him. “We’ll find
out what this thing is, and we’ll lick it, sir.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” sighed Gorski. “You are all superlative
physicians, Natalie.” They came to the hatch for Travel Tube 3, and
Gorski stopped. “Doctor.”
“Commander?”
“I know about you, and your husband.”
Silence.
“You…”
“Security Chief Verdeschi came to me, not three hours ago. He
apprised me of his findings.”
“Sir, I…”
“I know that your identities are false, but have no fear, Doctor.
I have no intention of either revealing or pursuing anything, and I
deleted the file Verdeschi gave to me. You, after all, are not the only
one’s here, under something other than their real names.” He smiled at
her, kindly and sadly. “I shall miss you both, Natalie. Please, tell
Nicholas goodbye for me, in the event that I do not see him, before I
go.”
“I…I will, Anton. And, thank you,” she added, somberly. “Good
luck, sir.”
“And to you.” There was a ding, as a travel car stopped, on the
other side of the doors. Nat moved away, to give the Commander space.
The doors opened, and out stepped Professor Bergman, and a tall,
captivating man with dark hair and a regal bearing, dressed identically
to Gorski. Koenig, she presumed.
He looks like he could be an actor, she thought, fleetingly.
“Commander Koenig,” she heard Gorski say, greeting the newcomer
and confirming her suspicions.
“Commander Gorski,” responded the new man, politely. He reached
out to shake his predecessor’s hand.
“I think we both know the situation,” she heard Gorski tell his
replacement, then turned away, resuming the walk to her rooms. As she
reached them and closed the doors, she felt a peculiar tingle. Nick.
He…No. Not him. This was different, somehow. It was… another.
Another vampire?
“I felt it too, Nat,” said Nick, after he’d returned from the Meta
Probe. He’d started in, about the ship and how incredibly advanced it
was, its cutting edge technology. The lot. But, just as he could see
that Nat wasn’t buying the upbeat mood, he felt it again.
“Yeah, Nick.”
“Someone’s here.”
LaCroix had never, in all the centuries since Divia had brought
him across, felt the least bit inclined to venture out after dawn.
After all, as a vampire, why? But he recalled Nicholas once telling him
of how he’d turned the tables on the psychotic woman who’d been hunting
him, by doing just that. He’d done the one thing which no vampire would
ever be expected to do; he had braved a few moments of daylight, taking
her off-guard long enough to rescue Schanke, and get away before the
entire building went sky high.
Today, like his son, Lucien LaCroix would do the unexpected.
He knew the Enforcers were watching him, albeit from a distance.
They certainly did not want him to sense them. Well, let them! The old
vampire was well versed in tricks and traps, and smiled at the naiveté
of the watchers. To think they could out-fox him! He hadn’t become a
General in Vespasian’s army by being slow, or survived the labrynth of
court politics by being a fool.
Deliveries to the Raven were made right after dawn, so he merely
crawled into the truck, and stowed away. He “convinced” the driver to
take him to the warehouse of Mollin Distributing, and there debarked.
Inside the cavernous building, he made his way to a back office. He
sniffed the air, catching the tell-tale whiff of tobacco smoke. She was
already there.
“Lucien.”
“Janette, mon cher,” replied the elegant vampire. “I am so glad
that you could come on such short notice.”
“It is the Enforcers, is it not?” asked Janette du Charme.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“One hears rumors in the Community, Lucien. Even in Hong Kong. It
is Nicholas, is it not?”
“Yes,” he replied, and outlined the whys and the wherefores.
“Very well,” she replied, exhaling the smoke from her Turkish
cigarette. LaCroix hated the things, but said nothing. “Nicholas
brought me back from the point of death. I owe him, Lucien. So, how do
I get to Alpha? I cannot fly the entire way.”
“You won’t have to, My Dear.” He almost said “child”, but
remembered that she was no longer his child, but Nicholas’, brought
back from the edge to once more be a vampire, after having found a way
to become mortal. LaCroix handed her a slip of paper.
“This is his ID number on Alpha, and the name he is using,
Janette. They will expect me to call him. But perhaps, perhaps, not
you.”
“I see,” she said, slipping the paper into her blouse. “Well, let
us hope he can handle it, and the Enforcer is not already there,
Lucien.”
“Yes, let us hope,” replied LaCroix. And, he added silently, pray.
Which, much to his own great surprise, in his heart of hearts, he did.
“Janette?” said Nick, in Alpha’s commsuite, voice thick with
surprise. He had neither seen nor heard from her, the one who had led
him down the path to darkness all those years ago, since she had been
brought across again. She’d been fed, taken care of, then blown
Toronto, but not before taking out the murderous pests that had killed
her lover Robert, the man who had made her mortal. All that Nick had
left of her was the DaVinci, and his memories.
Until now.
“Nicholas,” she said, in French, and he could hear both the
sadness and contempt in her voice. “It is good to see you, once more.”
“And you, Janette. I had thought that, after…well, no matter.
Where are you?”
“Hong Kong. The Ho Ti Club. You must come and see it. Listen,
Nicholas. LaCroix has told me about the En…”
“LaCroix?” he replied angrily. “To hell with LaCroix! I want no…”
“Nicholas!! Listen! Listen to me!”
“Janette, he killed them. Schanke and Cohen. He was behind Vudu,
and the plane bombing.” He explained. Janette looked somber, absorbing
it all. Did she believe him? Could she, she who had always been utterly
loyal to her Maker?
“I…see, Nicholas. But that is not important, now. LaCroix sent me
to warn you. An Enforcer has been dispatched to Alpha, to kill both you
and Natalie.”
“They’re here, Janette,” he replied, flatly. “We’ve both felt
them.”
“And you stay? But why, Nicholas? Why not flee, while there is the
chance?”
“We are on the moon, Janette. It’s not like hopping a carriage to
the next town, and changing your name. We must…”
“Do whatever it takes, Nicholas! Get off of Alpha, now! The
Enforcer is there.”
“Then I must stay.”
“What? Are you that much of a fool?” she asked aghast. “Oh yes, of
course. The brave Crusader Knight will save the Alphans from the wicked
Saracen. Same old Nicholas. And just what windmills will you tilt at on
the moon, mon chevalier? Eh?”
“Janette, I cannot just leave, and let an angry vampire rampage
through…”
“You can, but you won’t. They are mortals! Who cares? Oh
Nicholas!” she leaned towards the video pickup. “If not for yourself,
then for Natalie, Mon Cher. She is a mere stripling. She cannot hope
to…”
“No, Janette. I will not run. And do not forget, you were mortal,
once. And not so long ago, or have you forgotten Robert? But, I will…”
He was interrupted by a flashing light on the console. It was a
Priority Message Override. “Override, Janette. I have to go. Later.”
“Later, mon Nicho…” Janette was cut off, as the unit switched
over. Nick sighed, as he left the room, and at once felt it. They were
here. Close.
But where?
“An Enforcer?” asked Nat. “Did she say who?”
“No, only the Inner Conclave know who the Enforcers actually are.
But that has to be it, Nat. We’ve both felt them.”
“But how could one of them get up here undetected, Nick? Dumb
question. How did we get up here?”
“There are shuttles up almost every day, Nat. Equipment, parts,
supplies. Rotation of personnel. A fake identity wouldn’t have to hold
for long. Just long enough.” He sighed. “We can’t leave, Nat. Not now.
At least I can’t.”
“What?” she said, rising.
“I can’t just leave a rampaging vampire on the loose up here, Nat.
It’s me he’s here for, anyway.” He turned to her. “You, Nat. You must
return on the next shuttle back to Earth.”
“No way, Nick. I am staying.”
“Not…”
“NO! Nick, we can fight this bastard better, the two of us
together. I’ve only sensed one, not two. That puts the odds in our
favor, Nick. Besides, we’ve been locked together from the moment you up
and pulled a Lazarus in my morgue.”
“But…”
“No. I’m staying. I am staying, and that’s that.” She turned back
towards the window, and saw an Eagle putting down. Before she could
draw another breath, her commlock bleeped.
“Not again,” she groaned.
Again. This time it was Collins, gone berserk at the Area Two
monitoring depot. Like the rest, he’d gone berserk, wildly seeking
escape, even trying to smash through a window with his helmet! Stunned
by Commander Koenig, the stricken pilot had been dragged from the room,
and the door sealed, moments before the window blew out into vacuum.
Shortly after Collins was brought back, Astronaut Frank Warren
succumbed to his illness. A while later, Helena turned off Eric
Sparkman’s LSS, after the computer confirmed total brain death.
Alan Carter was angry. Frank and Eric were friends. He and Eric
had flown together. Now he understood the depth of the lies he had been
told, as they all had. Simmonds’ lies.
In spite of that, Carter found that he liked the new CO of
Moonbase Alpha. Despite the rush to get the Meta Probe off and running,
Koenig seemed much less of a political animal than certain other
Commanders. He seemed genuinely concerned with the welfare of his
people.
A breath of fresh air, at last.
Nick prowled the corridors of Alpha, trying to look busy. All the
while, his senses were taught, alert, looking for the Enforcer. He
couldn’t believe it, the Community actually taking the unthinkable step
of sending someone here, to eliminate him. Someone must be desperate,
to take so great a risk.
But they had. And that brought up the question of food. How was
the Enforcer sustaining themselves, up here? No one had as yet turned
up missing, or dead. Maybe they had brought food. But, sooner or later,
they would have to feed.
“Doctor Barber,” said a voice, and Nick stopped, turning. It was
Victor Bergman.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if we might have a chat,” said the old academic.
“Do you have a few moments?”
“Ah…” said Nick, then suddenly felt them. Then, they were gone.
“Sure, Victor,” he finished, and followed Bergman into his lab.
“Still nuking your corneas?” Captain Reese asked Detective Vetter,
as she stared into her computer, reviewing her current case.
“Always, Captain,” she replied. “What’s up?”
“Just heard from the Crown Prosecutor’s Office.”
“Your friend?”
“Uh huh. Guess what?”
“No Nick.”
“Exactly. Nick was never part of any witness protection, Tracy.”
“Was he sure? It’s pretty secret stuff.”
“Oh yeah. He owed me, big time. No Nick, period.”
“So what’s Nick doing up on Alpha? And under a phony name, to
boot?”
“You got me, Tracy. I don’t have a clue.”
“Oh my God,” said Nat, as she began Frank Warren’s autopsy. “It’s
all gone.”
“Your grandfather?” said Victor Bergman, to Nick. “No,” he smiled.
“I don’t think so. It took me long enough, but I remember you now.
Nicholas Forester.”
“Victor, I…”
“Resemblances across generations do not extend to exact
arrangement of teeth, or patterns in the irises, Nicholas.”
“You don’t understand, Victor. I…”
“No, Nick,” said Victor. “Though I don’t begin to understand how
you can be as young now as you were back in ’61. Or, what you are doing
here, on Alpha. But, you are the man I talked to, Professor Forrester.
Or whatever your name is.”
“I…” began Nick, then looked into Bergman’s eyes. He pushed. “You
don’t remember me, Professor,” he intoned. “We never had this
conversation, and you do not…”
“But I do,” said Bergman, snapping out of it. He looked at Nick.
“I remember you quite well, now. You’re immortal, aren’t you?”
“Professor…”
“Oh don’t worry, Nick. I have no desire to expose anyone’s
secrets.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“Call it the curiosity of an old man. I don’t begin to understand
it, Nick, but I can’t deny the evidence. Just how old are you, anyway?”
“Victor,” came Koenig’s voice, and Bergman looked up to the
commpost. The Commander was in Main Mission.
“Yes?”
“I think we’ve found a connection. A correlation.”
“Right. I’ll be with you.” Victor headed for the door, then turned
back. “Don’t worry, I meant it. You’re safe, Nick. I shan’t breathe a
word.” After he left, Nick sat, mulling. This was getting way too
complicated. Too many here had figured it out, or nearly so. Very bad,
for your average vampire.
“Nick,” said Nat, over his commlock. “Please come to Medical.”
“What?”
“Yeah. All of Frank Warren’s blood is gone,” said Nat. “The
Enforcer.”
“It has to be. But how did he get in?”
“Air vent, maybe. But why take the blood from a dead man? God,
that’s a no-brainer. They aren’t ready to move, yet.”
“And killing someone would tip their hand, too soon.”
“Not to mention…” She stopped as Helena entered, muttering angrily
to herself. She looked up. “Oh, Nat. Autopsy results? As if I needed
any more.”
“Same as before,” said Nat, pulling a sheet over the late Mr.
Warren. “I haven’t started on Eric’s, yet.” She watched Helena peruse
the report. “What is it?”
“Hhmm? Oh, Commander Koenig. He’s flying out to Area One.”
“What for?” asked Nick.
“Oh that’s right. You haven’t heard. Something weird is going on
out there.”
“Weird? Like what?” asked Natalie.
“The heat inside the waste storage vessels is rising, rapidly.
But, we can’t detect any radiation at all. Koenig is flying out there
to check on it.”
Waste storage! Thought Nick. What if…
“Can we see?” he asked her. Helena seemed a little surprised by
the request.
“Uh, the cameras at Area One burned out. We lost our video feed.”
She went to the commpost, and called up the replay from the computer.
Both vampires watched as Area One began to destroy itself.
Mon Dieu!, thought Nicholas. My dream! It’s happening! It’s coming
true! The cones of soil upon which were set the containment spheres
were glowing, the lunar dust beginning to slag, little rivulets running
down the slopes. The spheres were smoking, the metal beginning to
vaporize, as bolts of bright energy arced between them. Then, the video
was gone.
“My God, Helena,” said Nat. “What’s causing it?” She looked over
to Nick.
“They don’t know,” replied Helena. “So Koenig flies right into it.
Brilliant cowboy maneuver.” She snorted in disgust.
Nick left Medical, heading for Main Mission, unaware that Helena
and Nat were behind him. This was it. Had to be. Nuclear waste, and an
apparent meltdown at a disposal site. Once there, he was riveted to the
main screen. Though Area One video was out, they were getting feed both
from Koenig’s Eagle, and the crash unit Helena had dispatched to follow
him at a safe distance.
Area One was a mess. Metal vapor was subliming into space as the
heat climbed ever higher, bolts of visible energy arcing wildly about.
And, it seemed, Alpha’s new Commander was in danger.
“I’m in trouble,” he radioed, as his ship began to buck. “Are you
still getting data?”
“The magnetic field’s expanding,” Nick heard Victor say, to Paul
Morrow. “We can’t measure it. Get him away from there, quickly.”
“Hang on, Commander, we’re going to try and blast you out of
there,” said Morrow. But it did no good. “Switch to onboard backup
systems, Commander,” Morrow went on, with some heat, “we’re losing
you.” As before, it was useless. Koenig’s Eagle was going down, and
barely missed the hilltops surrounding the dump as it careened towards
the surface.
“Backups failing. All systems out,” Nick heard Koenig say, before
being swallowed up by this déjà vu. He watched Koenig’s Eagle belly in
to the ground, then…
Then it went. No sooner was Koenig down, then one of the
containment vessels burst open, followed by another. Within seconds,
the entire dump was erupting in an orgy of light and energy, spewing
out its radioactive guts.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“We’re looking for answers, Commander,” said Helena to Koenig, in
Medical. “Not heroes.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” Koenig shot back, and left the room.
For a moment, Helena stood there, stung by his retort. And, she
realized, her own feelings. Care? Koenig? She hardly…Yes, he did remind
her somewhat of Lee, but there was no way…
Growling, she quickly retreated to the inner area, the word
“cowboy” coming to Nat’s ears. She was just finishing up Eric
Sparkman’ post-mortem, and turned to regard her chief.
“Excuse me?” she asked, as Helena came over to look at the corpse.
“I’m resigning,” was the CMO’s terse reply.
“What?” asked Nat, surprised. “You’re kid…”
“Once this is cleared up, Nat, I’m going home. I cannot practice
medicine in this choking political atmosphere. First, Gorski played
synchophant to the great god Simmonds, now we have Commander John
Wayne. I’ve done with it, Nat. I’m out of here, once this is over.” She
took the report from Nat, and began to peruse it. “Nat, where’s the
blood gasses and tox screen?”
“Uh, well…”
“What happened to the bl…Oh no!”
“No. No, Helena,” said Nat, quickly. “I swear to you that neither
Nick nor myself touched it, Helena. It just was not there."
“That’s impossible. I pronounced him dead, Natalie. He was full.”
“No, Helena.” Nat took a deep breath. “Helena, there’s something I
have to tell you. About the…Enforcers.”
Nick didn’t go up to the Meta Probe ship, next day. No one did.
Commander Koenig had put the entire project on hold, while they all
bent their backs to the problem to hand. And it was, now, a far bigger
problem than any of them had thought.
In analyzing the wreckage of the Area One monitoring depot,
Professor Bergman had discovered, he hoped, the root cause of the whole
mess. The stored waste was, over time, beginning to generate its own
highly intense, though erratic, magnetic field. A field that had grown
in unpredictable fits and starts, till all hell had at last broken
loose. No one had predicted this effect, but now it seemed they had
their culprit. Each and every man that had gone down had flown over
Area One, and frequently. Constant and repeated exposure to this energy
now appeared to be the cause of the affliction. Not a virus. Not a
bacterium. Magnetism.
And now, Area Two…
While Koenig and Bergman prepared a remote-controlled Eagle to
monitor Area Two, Helena researched all the medical literature on
magnetic energy. She found that there was precious little regarding its
effects upon the brain and nervous system. There were bits from the
archives of the old Soviet Union, but those were experiments on
prisoners in the Gulag, and were incomplete anyway. Basically, this was
the medical frontier, and Helena Russell was in virgin territory.
“It has to be, Nat,” said Nick, in their lab. “In my dream, I saw
it. I saw the waste dump blow up. Now it’s happened.”
“I must admit Nick, I don’t have an answer for that one,” said
Nat. “Happen it did. And now, have you heard?”
“What?”
“Helena told me. Koenig’s issued a Code Alpha One.”
“Alpha One? Isn’t that the emergency disaster code?” asked Nick.
“It is. Alpha’s version of Doomsday. As if we didn’t have enough
trouble, ourselves,” she sighed. “Of course, if we get an evac order,
it could work in our favor, Nick. But, until then, with the Enforcer
loose on Alpha…”
“Yeah. We can’t leave.”
Moving about this place was ridiculously easy, thought the
Enforcer. Security was fairly loose, and so far no resisters had been
encountered. Of course, slipping into Medical had been a bit dicey.
She’d nearly been caught, there. No sign of either target, but the
corpse in residence hadn’t seemed to mind. She didn’t much care for the
blood of the dead, but it nourished, and that was the important thing.
She had not yet been able to catch either target alone, so she
continued to bide her time, learning the routine of Alpha from afar.
The plans she had been given of the base had proven completely
accurate, making moving about by means of the air ducting system a
snap.
Now she was hungry again, and made her way back to Medical.
Neither target was near as she dropped into the room, but she could
smell the vegetating pilot, Collins, the latest victim of the disease,
in the next ward. Making certain she was clear, she took him, letting
his blood flow into her. As with every victim, she could sense the
thoughts of her prey, the “blood knowledge”. While the higher cognitive
functions were gone, Collins’ memory centers were intact, and she could
“taste” the events of his life.
And his fear. The utter terror and confusion that had overcome him
as the disease erupted. For a moment she pulled away, so unsettling was
it, and shook her head to try and clear the images.
What utter hell this man must have gone through, as his mind was
stripped away from him, and he began to spiral downwards into
oblivion! For a moment, she actually felt a spark of pity for the
fellow. He…
No! No pity! She returned to her feeding, finishing Collins off
quickly. She lingered a moment or two, savoring the last taste of his
warm blood, and…
She turned suddenly at a noise. Someone was coming, and she
scurried back up into the vent, and spared a quick look. It was her!
Natalie. So close. So close, she could almost reach out and…No, there
was another with her. The base’s chief physician, Doctor Russell. They
had found Collins.
The Human… cattle! Upset over the death of one dead already. No
wonder the Community had decided to eliminate Natalie. She poisoned the
very essence of what it was to be a vampire. Putrefied it, with her
puerile, sickening pity for mortals. It was enough to make one wretch
in pure disgust. How had LaCroix stood…
Nat raised her head. Ah, yes! The stripling sensed her. So much
the better. It always added a certain spice to the chase, an extra
thrill to the kill, that. With a silent chuckle, she scurried away.
“Nat, I know you didn’t do it,” said Helena. “But Nick…”
“No. Nick would never take advantage like this, Helena. Remember,
we want to become Human, again. This is the Enforcer’s work.”
“We have to call Security,” said Helena, reaching for her
commlock. Nat put out a hand.
“No! We can’t. Tony was about to arrest us as it was, Helena.
He’ll never believe it wasn’t us, even if he does eventually accept
vampires.”
“And we can hardly go to Commander Koenig,” nodded Helena, letting
go of her commlock. “As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, with
all that going on.” She looked at Collins’ body. “Come on, Natalie.
Let’s call it.”
“Right. I’ll get the post-mortem set up.”
Nick was surprised, as was nearly everyone else, to learn that
Commissioner Simmonds himself was coming to Alpha. Rarely had the
unctuous politico ever stepped out of his comfy world. He had, as a
matter of fact, never even been into space, before! But now he was
here.
Koenig had issued a Code Alpha One emergency transmission, a
signal of near or total disaster. It had the desired effect. So hungry
was he to get his Meta Probe launched, Simmonds had come to Alpha to
see for himself, and if needs be, take over.
For Koenig, it was a small victory. Furious at being lied to by
the bipedal snake, he’d forced Simmonds to move, having sized his
opponent up superbly. Now, he had Simmonds here, under his control.
He’d damn well make the ophidious little SOB see first hand what the
real situation was.
Nick was not invited to the pow-wow in the Commander’s office with
Simmonds, over Area Two. Neither was Nat. She was in Medical, helping
the new people settle in. Yes. New people. Implying that Helena was out
of her depth, Simmonds had intended to send up an Eagle full of “top
medical people”, to probe into the problem. Koenig had emphatically
said no. Alpha didn’t need any more crew, certainly not any of
Simmonds’ spies, checking up on his every move. Simmonds hadn’t liked
it, especially when Koenig pressured him to delay any more shipments of
atomic waste up to the moon. But now…
Now, now that he’d been forced up here by Koenig’s Alpha One code,
he’d thrown a nasty barb of his own in return. He’d brought the medical
people as intended. They were to be given full cooperation, et al, et
cetera, ad nauseum. While Nat had nothing personal against this Dr. Ed
Spencer, or any of the new staff, she saw it as a nasty slap at her
chief, and a damning verdict on her abilities. Incompetent? Helena had
bags under her eyes big enough to hold her wardrobe, from lack of
sleep. She’d driven herself harder than anyone else, to try and drag
into the light the cause of this malady. What the hell did that
politician know about medical competence? She’d just love to get
Simmonds in here, she decided. Procto exam, anyone?
And, speaking of the devil, what was going on in that meeting?
Nick was at the door, listening, his vampiric hearing giving him a
ringside seat at the meeting. The Commissioner and Koenig’s people were
discussing the latest news from…
Area Two! It was showing the same instability as Area One had. The
heat was beginning to rise there, as well, just as it had in Area One.
Was it going to explode, as well?
Schanke had taken him to Area Two. There was no doubt of it. And,
therefore, there was no doubt that Area Two would soon share the
violent fate of its predecessor. And, containing vastly more waste than
Area One had…
“Oh my God,” whispered Nick. “We’re all…”
Then he felt it. Felt the Enforcer! Close by. He turned, and
headed in the direction of the sensation.
“Nick,” said Alan Carter, in the corridor near Travel Tube 3.
“Alan?”
“Have you heard?”
“About Commissioner Simmonds? Yes. Is he really as terrible as
everyone says?”
“Yeah. But I’ve got to tell you, Nick. I owe you.”
“Tell me what?” asked Nick.
“Area Two. The atomic waste dump. It’s going nuts.”
“How?” Nick felt fear begin to rise, both in Carter and himself.
The waste disposal…
“The heat’s rising, just like it did at Area One, only faster and
there’s no end in sight. That, and the magnetic field surges have
already wrecked one Eagle.”
“What…what’s to be done?”
“We’re going to gut it, Nick. Disperse the waste canisters over a
wider area. Hopefully, it won’t go supercritical on us.”
“And if it does?”
“Then God help us,” said the Australian. “That place has over 140
times the junk that was in Area One.” He put a hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“Nick, I’m only alive because of you. I don’t care if you are what you
are. You’re a good man.”
“Alan, I…I don’t…can we get off Alpha? Nat’s not safe.”
“The last supply shuttle lifted off for return to Earth about ten
minutes ago, Nick. Right now I’m on my way to the hangar to help with
outfitting the Eagles for the dispersal mission. I’m sorry.”
“Then we stay.”
“You’re kidding. Look, Simmonds’ Eagle is still here. You could…”
“No. Look, Alan, there’s an Enforcer on the base somewhere.”
“An… you mean one of them?”
“Yes. Gunning for Natalie and I. I can’t just leave you all to the
mercy of an enraged vampire.”
“But Nick, if…”
“No. I can’t leave, and Nat can’t even fly. It was a fool’s idea,
Alan. Besides,” Nick took a deep breath, “I was a soldier, once. A
Knight of the Cross. I have faced death in battle, before. This time,
it’s stealth and cunning, rather than sword and lance, but it is battle
all the same, Captain.” He drew himself up to his full height, and
Carter could sense something of the power of this man. “Besides, I am
Nicholas Francois Henri Jean-Pierre Louis de Brabant, Lord of de
Brabant. Knight. We do not run!”
This guy must have been something, thought Alan, even as a mortal.
Knight. Crusader. Fearless warrior. But now! He actually stepped back a
step, so palpable was the aura of auctoritas, the sheer raw power of
this man.
“Gotcha, Nick,” said Alan, and smiled. If he ever had to fight a
battle, he decided he could hope for no better than Nicholas de Brabant
at his side. “Well, good…”
“Captain Carter,” came a voice over his commlock. “This is Pat
Osgood. Please report to hangar bay. Captain Carter to hangar bay.”
“On my way,” said Carter. “Gotta go Nick. Good luck.”
“Go with God,” Nick replied.
“And you,” shot back the pilot, then turned and was gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Perhaps it was the presence of one of the dreaded Enforcers.
Perhaps it was the sword of a nuclear Damocles hanging over their
heads. Natalie wasn’t sure. But after Collins’ autopsy, she threw
herself back into her experiments with a renewed vigor.
Helena divided her time between Main Mission and Medical. Somehow,
despite the impending crisis, she felt more drawn to Natalie than ever.
And while never a garrulous woman, she found herself opening up to Nat
about her life, and her late husband, Lee, as she never had to anyone
else.
An astronaut, Lee Russell had been lost several years before on a
mission to Jupiter. Devastated, Helena had buried herself in her work.
Always hoping, however illogically, that she might someday, somehow,
hear something, she had applied for, and gotten, the Alpha post.
Illogical yes, but it made her feel somehow closer to Lee, wherever he
was. And of course, it gave Moonbase Alpha one hell of a CMO at the
same time.
“Nat”, she said, after logging the last data on Collins. “I want
to help.”
“What with?”
“This,” she replied, motioning towards Nat’s litroveutrine
experiments. “I want to help you and Nick to find the cure.”
“Helena…”
“No, I mean it. After all, I became a doctor in order to cure
disease. From all I’ve seen, vampirism is just that. It is a disease,
Nat. A sickness, like any other. I want to help.”
“It could…hell, it is dangerous, Helena.”
“It can’t be any more dangerous that sitting six inches from
vacuum, on this orbiting bomb, Natalie.” She waited a beat. “Please.”
“Okay. You’re in.”
Alan watched as the first of the retrofitted Eagles took off,
headed for Area Two. Equipped with a winch, 500 feet of cable, and
shielded electronics, they would lift the waste canisters out of their
vaults, then dump them in designated areas. He hoped the modifications
to the avionics would be sufficient to protect both ships and men.
But that was not all that was gnawing at him. This Enforcer, if
Nick was right, was here. That meant that both Barbers were in danger.
His friends were in danger, he had to help.
But how?
“Nat, I want you to go,” said Nick, as she bent over her
experiment.
“What?” she cried, lifting her eyes from the electron microscope.
“Alan told me. Simmonds’ Eagle is still here. I know you can’t
fly,” he said, raising a hand, “but I had an idea. We could hypnotize a
pilot, and he could take…”
“Not on your eternal life, Nick. The Enforcer is here, after both
of us. NO!” She held up a hand. “We’re married, and that means we’re
together in this. In for a penny, Nick, in for a pound.”
Nick opened his mouth to protest, but forbore. Nat’s mind was made
up, and all the argument he could muster would do no good. She would
stay, and that was the way the cookie was going to crumble.
What did he expect from Natalie, anyway?
The first of the retrofitted Eagles arrived at Area Two, and
dropped her cable. Latching on to the hatch cover, it lifted it off,
and began removing the first canister of waste.
And, deep down below, the temperature continued to climb. Degree
after inexorable degree.
The Enforcer was growing hungry again. It hadn’t been all that
long since she’d fed, of course, but the excitement of the chase was
definitely whetting her appetite.
This would be it, she decided. Her greatest hunt, brought to its
final, natural conclusion. She would finally settle her long-standing
difference of opinion with Nicholas de Brabant.
And she would be free of the Eternal Curse!
Turmoil roiling inside, unable to flee or to fight, Nick did what
he often did, whenever he needed to think. He made music. In Alpha’s
theater sat a grand piano, a Steinway in fact. While it lacked his
candelabra, it would more than do, he decided. He looked around, and
sighed, suddenly missing his collection of antiques. He sat, and
studied the keyboard. Lord, he missed them, his friends of the past.
Schanke, Cohen, a hundred others. He shook his head, and letting his
mind go, he began to play.
With everyone running around like headless chickens, Tony
Verdeschi had little to do at the moment. So, his mind returned to the
problem he found most vexing. Dr. Nicholas Barber.
Because Nick’s hypnosis of him had been interrupted, he still
remembered a good deal. Nick was most definitely not who he presented
himself to be. As such he presented, as far as Verdeschi was concerned,
a threat to the security of Moonbase Alpha. And, being a cop, he
couldn’t help but wonder whether if Nick were involved somehow in all
this current mess.
But whatever, he was in violation of the law, and Verdeschi would
act accordingly. He’d reel Nick and Nat in, and let Commander Koenig
know later, after the waste dump crisis was over. No sense bothering
him about it now, with all that going on in Main Mission.
Carter headed back to Main Mission, after overseeing the last of
the refits. Each of Alpha’s 30 operational Eagles had been modified,
but only half a dozen could work in the space over the dump at a time.
The rest were being held in reserve, just in case.
God, what a mess! Thought Carter. Chalk up another one for
physics. A new and deadly side-affect of radioactive materials, and no
one had seen it coming. How jolly. And to think…
He stopped, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Not that he wasn’t
already, given the current mess, but this was something…different. This
felt like cold, clammy death, reaching out for him.
And it felt familiar, too. As if he’d encountered it, somewhere.
Once before. As if…As if what? He couldn’t be quite sure. He…
What in the…
It was a sight new to Alpha. Two members of Helena’s medical
staff, being led under arrest to Security. In shackles. Tony Verdeschi
and Deputy Sanchez were hauling Nick and Nat in.
“Tony,” said Nat.
“Save it,” said Tony. “You can talk to Commander Koenig, after
this business is over with. For now you are under arrest, and I’m
putting you in the brig.”
“Tony, you don’t understa…”
“Tony?” said a voice, and Verdeschi looked up to see Alan Carter,
dead ahead. “Oh shit,” said Alan, barely audible, then louder: “Tony,
what are you doing? Nick?”
“He’s under arrest, Alan. They both are.”
“But,” spluttered Alan, “Tony. Tony, you…”
“Don’t interfere, Alan,” Verdeschi shot back. “This is a security
matter.”
“Like hell, Tony,” said Alan, following them to Security. “Look,
Natalie saved your life, and this is how you show gratitude?” Carter
looked at both vampires. “Come on Tony. What the hell did they do?”
Close by, the Enforcer listened to the conversation, fully aware
that she could be sensed by both Nick and Nat. She smiled. Perfect!
The targets were being taken to the Security section, and there was an
air vent leading right into Verdeschi’s offices. Once inside, she would
strike!
Over Area Two, Eagle 8 began to experience intermittent failure in
its navigational systems. They reported it to Paul Morrow in Main
Mission, and were ordered back to Alpha. Eagle 17 took off to replace
them.
Down at the bottom of one of the storage vaults, one of the
canisters began to swell and warp, from the inexorably climbing heat.
“Alan,” said Tony, as Carter followed them into Security, “please.
The Commander will pass on this, one way or the other, as soon as he’s
through with the waste dump problem. How’s it going, by the way?”
“Every ship’s committed. But look, Tony, Nick and Nat…”
“Are under arrest. Commander Koenig will decide whether we go
ahead with charges, but…” Tony looked at Sanchez, and motioned him into
the next room. He sat, and began to fill out a form. “Until then, they
warm a cell in the brig.”
“Tony, there are some things you don’t understand, here. I…”
“They violated the law,” said Verdeschi, not looking up from his
paperwork. “That I understand.” His head snapped up, pointing a pen at
him, “And if you don’t want to become an accessory Alan, then you had
better lay off, and get out. Now.”
Deep within the oldest vault of Area Two, one of the canisters
began to split, then burst, spilling its deadly contents. The
radioactive sludge at once began eating away at its neighbors.
“Tony, how in God’s Name can you say that? We’ve been friends, and
you accuse me of complicity in a crime?”
“Alan,” said Nick, “don’t involve yourself any further on our
accounts. We’ll get all this settled, but…” He stopped, as he felt the
Enforcer. Close! He looked over at Nat. Yeah. She felt it too.
“You bet we’ll settle…” began Tony, then stopped, as they all
heard a thud, and a muffled scream from the next room. “What the hell’s
that?” He pulled his commlock. “Sanchez? Sanchez, what…” He went to the
door, and keyed it open…
And stepped back, recoiling in shock and horror. Sanchez was held
firmly in the grasp of a woman, her hair spilling over her face, as she
brutally pulled the life from him. Nick and Nat felt the thoughtless
call of their nature, as the smell of blood slammed into their
brainstems. But it was short-lived in him. Sanchez ceased to struggle
and with a final growl from the attacker was dropped to the floor. She
looked up at the rest, blood still trickling from her lips, dripping
onto her uniform blouse. Her face was like a leer from hell.
Tony was frozen to the floor, it seemed. Never had he seen or
imagined anything like this. He barely heard Nick’s sharp intake of
breath as he caught sight of the Enforcer’s face, gaze riveted on the
gory image.
“Alexandra,” said Nick.
Behind him, another voice croaked out a single word, a voice
choked in fury and rage.
“YOU!” shouted Alan Carter.
Another canister within Area One gave way, and the radioactive
materials met and melded. Slowly, as the atoms began to fission, a
chain reaction began its deadly dance.
At last shaking off his stupor, Tony reached for his weapon. But,
the vampire was faster, and with a quick backhand sent him flying over
his desk, to crash on the floor.
“Nicholas,” said Alexandra, now drawn up to her full height. She
was still as beautiful as the night he and LaCroix had first met her in
that ale-house, so long ago. Tall, face and skin flawless, body
superbly full and ripe. And eyes filled with an undying hate. “How nice
to see you again.”
“I obviously missed your heart,” said Nick.
“Obviously,” said Alexandra, with a mirthless smile, recalling the
night Nick had tried to destroy her. “As usual, you blundered,
Nicholas. As you blundered so many things.”
“You…you know this…this…” choked Alan, red-faced, neck bulging.
“Yes, I’m sorry to say,” sighed Nick.
“She’s the one! The one who killed my friends! Who left my
sister…”
“Ah,” said Alexandra, after giving Alan a moment’s study. “If it
isn’t the lucky boy from the Outback. I told you we’d meet again, boy.
Remember?”
“You murdering bitch!” screamed Alan, and reached for a weapon.
His hand had barely closed around it, when he felt Alexandra beginning
to tear into his mind. But, he was a resister, and fighting off her
hypnotism, he fired.
Then all hell broke loose.
“Yes, Eagle 9?” said Paul Morrow, in Main Mission.
“Our navigation system’s going, Paul,” said the pilot.
“Understood. Return to base, Eagle 9. Eagle 21, prepare to lift
off.”
The shot, on a stun setting, barely seemed to faze Alexandra. She
leapt with a vampire’s speed into both Nick and Nat, giving Nick barely
enough time to shout “Go” to Carter before Alexandra plowed into them.
In the confined space of Verdeschi’s office there was little room to
maneuver, and everyone ended up in a heap on the floor.
Both Nick and Nat ripped apart their shackles, and struggled to
get to their feet. Nat kicked Alexandra hard in the hip joint, and the
other vampire skidded into a wall. At once Nat was up, Nick helping
Alan.
“Not bad, stripling,” said the one-time barmaid to Natalie. “Not bad at
all. But you’ll have to live for centuries, to get the better of
me. Of course you won’t be getting the chance, now.”
“Why, Alexandra?” cried Nick. “Why this? Why try and kill her? I
know you hate me, but…”
“The Community decided it was time to put an end to you, Nicholas.
I asked for this one. I wanted no one else to have this chance, but
me!”
“But…”
“YOU LOVE HER!!! I want you to suffer, you bastard, knowing that
it was I who killed the one you love!!” Alexandra’s eyes were pulsing
red, now, her fangs white and terrible. Her face was twisted in
psychotic rage.
“You’ll never make it off Alpha alive,” said Carter, struggling to
his feet, painfully aware that his weapon had flown off God knew where.
“I never intended to,” replied Alexandra, giving the Australian
only a moment’s glance. “That’s right, Nicholas. This is a suicide
mission. I shall be free of this curse you brought upon me. But I’ll
have the satisfaction of seeing you dead, first.”
“And the Community?” asked Nat, though she realized it was a moot
point. If only they could keep her talking…
“To hell with the Community,” shouted the other. I don’t give a
damn about them. All I care about is you!”
“Get out, Alan,” said Nat. “Go! Get…”
Nat got no further, for Alexandra was at once upon her, fangs
bared, hands around her neck. Nat was able to reach her face, and sink
her nails into the other woman’s flesh, ripping down, before she both
felt and heard her own neck crack. With a convulsive spasm, she felt
the darkness close in.
With a bestial roar, Nick exerted all his undead might, and tore
Alexandra away, before she could finish ripping Natalie’s head off. He
threw her into the wall, the grabbed her. With enormous strength, given
her by the fresh blood within her, she gave him an uppercut, fracturing
his jaw, and throwing him off.
“You’re stronger, this time,” she panted, glaring at him. She saw
Alan try to go for help. Damn! The doors were shut tight.
“Don’t bother, boy, I overrode the lock. And you can forget about
calling anyone, too.” She slammed a fist into the commpost, sending it
up in a shower of sparks and smoke. “We’re all alone.”
“So be it,” said Nick, feeling his jaw knit. “and yes, I am
stronger! Alot…” He was on her, again. The two undead creatures
thrashed about the room, knocking over Tony’s desktop monitor, breaking
a chair, and scattering everything about. Alan tried to help his
friend, but got a kick for his trouble, and landed on top of Tony. He
shook his head, and found himself staring into Nat’s glazed, unseeing
eyes.
At Area Two, another vault was opened, and another canister was
lifted out. But, deep within, the deadly dance continued on.
Alan could hear Alexandra’s arm break, as Nick took hold, and
twisted. She screamed, and Nick ripped harder, till she caught him with
her heel, and he was forced to let her go.
“You cannot win, Nicholas,” she panted. “Even as she spoke, he
could hear the bones and tendons in her arm begin to heal. He spared a
quick look at Carter. “He cannot help you, Nicholas. I shall take him,
too, and then I will be done.”
“You are mad, Alexandra. Insane?”
“MAD??? Whose madness was it to make me? Who was it put me under
this curse??” she screamed.
“It was LaCroix, Alexandra, who did this. It was he who brought
you across. Not…
“Do not try and shift the blame, Nicholas. You took my blood. You
shall die for it!” Coiling like a cat, she readied, then attacked
again, so fast Alan could scarcely follow.
But he was ready.
Gripping the piece of shattered chair, he leapt up over the desk,
arms raised high. Nick had Alexandra in a bear hug, and he could hear a
rib crack. For her part, she had him by the throat, his face turning
purple. Throwing caution to the winds, he swung down…
Eagle 21 cleared the base, on her way to Area Two. Deep inside the
vaults, another vessel gave way, more atoms starting to fission.
Alexandra shrieked in pain, as the plastic shard ripped into her
back. She arched, letting go of Nicholas, and whirled so fast the
impromptu weapon was torn from her body.
“Bastard!” she screamed, turning her still-mangled face to him.
“I’ll rip your…”
“In your dreams, bitch!” hissed Alan, and thrust the bloody piece
into her chest. This time, the point hit home, piercing her heart.
Mouth spitting blood, she reached out to him, face contorted in fury
and pain, but there was no strength in it.
At the Raven, LaCroix awoke as the sun dropped close to the
horizon. He rose, and as was his custom, went into the silent bar,
taking his first sustenance alone.
How he missed them, he decided. His children. Seeing Janette here,
behind the bar, Nicholas traipsing in to try and dig up some clue or
other about his petty puzzles of the police courts. It was a lonely
place, without them. He even found himself missing Vachon, Urs, and,
Jupiter help him, Screed!
Jupiter. Father of the gods, in the religion of his boyhood. He
could still remember his own father, every morning, taking his mother,
his older brother, his sister and he, to the lararium, the shrine of
the household gods, in the atrium of their home to perform the daily
ritual.
He’d believed, then, as a small boy of six. Believed fervently
that the lares and penates were real, that they truly watched over him
and his entire family. How life had left him empty, he mused. How he
had come to believe in nothing.
Or did he? He’d always denied it, but as he pondered the silence
of his club, he found himself thinking more and more about Jupiter.
Olympian Jove, or some god. Maybe Nicholas was right, about there being
something else. About there being something more. Maybe…
“Nicholas,” he whispered to the empty room. As he did so, he felt
a twinge of something. He was in danger! His Nicholas was in mortal
peril, at this very instant! The Enforcer must have reached him.
“O Jupiter,” he said, surprisingly loudly. “Oh…God! Give him
victory. Do not let…” He choked off the sentence, downing the rest of
his sustenance, and donned his coat. As was also his custom, he exited
the club for his after-sundown walk. There was still a wash of light on
the horizon, and he stopped to look at the thin crescent of the moon.
Silently, almost against his will, he sent up another prayer, then his
brows furrowed. What…
His eyes went wide in shock.
“What the hell…?”
Alan shoved with all his strength, and Alexandra gurgled in agony.
She grabbed at him, but he easily eluded her rapidly ebbing strength.
She bared her fangs, glaring at him with hate, then her knees buckled.
She tried to breathe, but could not. Looking weakly back up at him, she
croaked out a faint-
“Thank…..you….”
And then toppled over, her eyes going back to normal color, then
glassy.
“It’s done,” said Nick, straightening up.
“Yeah,” breathed Carter. “Nick, I…”
“Alan, you’ve got to get out of here,” said Nick, looking up from
Alexandra’s corpse. How…how peaceful she looked, now. Peace.
“But…”
“I’ll take care of things, Alan. You can’t be here, when Tony
comes to.”
“But Nick…” he began, pointing to Nat.
“She’ll regenerate, soon. Go!” Nick kicked the lock on the door,
and it opened, slowly. “Hurry, Alan. Before you’re seen.”
Carter stopped off at the can, right before entering Main Mission.
He ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to compose himself.
Compose? Hell, he’d just killed a…a vampire! How do you get composed
after that? He checked himself over in the mirror. He had surprisingly
little blood on himself. A stain on his shirt, but he hitched up his
belt to cover that. He gave hands and face a quick look, and headed on
in. God, don’t let anyone notice!
In the Belconnen Psychiatric Hospital in Canberra, Australia,
Sally Carter suddenly came to herself. Like a physical weight, or a
thick choking cloud, the miasma that had left her a near-vegetable for
years began to lift. Gradually, her mind began to clear and to function
once more, as she became aware of her surroundings for the first time
in many years.
“Alan?” she called out, then began to remember, that horrible
night rushing back like a flood. The cold breath, the fangs, the red
eyes! And the laugh. That laugh. “Alan. Alan??” She leapt out of bed,
as a nurse came into her room, bringing her parents. “Where’s Alan?”
she demanded.
Inside the vaults, yet another of the waste canisters gave way
from the heat. The hellish ooze flowed out, piling danger upon danger,
as both the magnetic fluctuations, and the heat, kept on rising.
“We’ve had navigational failures on two of the ships,” Paul Morrow
told the Commander. “They’ve returned to base for replacements.”
Alan took a place next to Professor Bergman, and studied a
readout. The magnetic field around Area Two was hip-hopping all over
the dial. He spared a look across Main Mission. Commissioner Simmonds
was watching the whole operation, eyes darting, predator-like, about
the room. He looked pissed, Alan decided. No doubt Koenig forcing him
up here was part of the reason. Doubtless, his head would roll, once
this whole thing was over. The…
“Carter,” he heard the Commander say, and looked up to see Koenig
heading towards him. “Do you have an extra ship?”
“No sir, they’re all committed.” Koenig turned, and looked back
towards the unctuous Simmonds.
“Well, take the Commissioner’s Eagle into orbit, and report on how
things look from up there.”
“Right,” he replied, and hurriedly left to carry out Koenig’s
orders. That went well, he thought. No one had noticed anything amiss.
Of course, who would, with all that going on?
He ran for the launch pad, fueled by his pent-up anxiety. His
friends, Nick and Nat, were still in the Security Office, cooped up
with an unconscious Tony, and a dead vampire. What if they were
discovered before they could clean up? What if…
He tried to shove such thoughts aside, telling himself not to buy
trouble, as he crawled into his spacesuit. He fairly ran up into the
cockpit, and blazed through the pre-flight.
Nick drug the dead Enforcer into the inner office, and closed the
door. He knelt beside Nat, still not fully regenerated. He had drained
Alexandra of her blood, and could feel his own body rapidly restoring
itself. Cutting his wrist, he pressed the wound to Nat’s lips, letting
some of his blood flow into her.
She stirred, eyelids fluttering as his blood found purchase. He
could feel her life-force rising back up. “Don’t, Nat,” he whispered.
“Don’t go through the door. Come back, Nat. Come back to me.” She
groaned, and he felt the flutter of her heart.
With Natalie safe for the moment, he went to the Security monitor
station. It was in sad shape after Alexandra’s tampering and the fight,
and he did his best to unlock it. He got a fingerful of sparks for his
trouble, till at last one screen returned to life, giving him a view of
Main Mission.
It was chaos in there. Koenig had his hands full, battling both
the waste dump, and Commissioner Simmonds. He tried to key for sound,
and got Alan's voice over the speaker.
“…ory computed and programmed. I will be in orbit in four
minutes.”
At least Alan was safe, he thought. For now, anyway. He heard a
groan and turned. Tony was coming to. Merde!
“Santa Maria!” rasped Tony, shaking his head and trying to sit up.
He saw Nick, and slowly focused on him. “Nick? Nick, what…”
“Tony, you’ve been hurt. Don’t get up, until…”
“Hold it, Barber,” said Tony, who’d landed on top of his weapon.
He now leveled it at Nicholas. “I said hold it,” repeated Verdeschi. He
put a hand to forehead, then mouth. He was bleeding. “Where is she?” he
asked. Then, hearing Nat groan: “What happened to her?” He looked about
for his commlock, but didn’t see it.
“She’s just unconscious, Tony. She’ll…”
“Where’s Alan and that…Oh my God!” He was on his feet now,
calling. “Sanchez? Sanchez!” He made for the inner office, and swore
loudly. “What the hell’s going on here?”
With a loud intake of breath, Natalie sat up, and opened her eyes.
“Cazzo!” Verdeschi swore again, momentarily shocked back into his
mother tongue, as he beheld the eyes and fangs. Without thinking, he
crossed himself. Nick inhaled sharply, turning away, but Nat only
smelled blood from Tony, its scent fueling her hunger.
“Stay back, Natalie! Stay back!” Verdeschi cried out, both
terrified and appalled by what he was seeing. He leveled the laser
directly at her.
“Nat! Nat!” Nick cried, and took hold of her. He gave her his
wrist once more, and she bit deeply, moaning almost erotically as she
drew the nectar from him. He could feel its power as it coursed out of
him and into her, filling and suffusing every particle of her being.
“Madre de Dio!” swore Tony. “Che diavoli sieti voi? ” he squeaked,
but Nick’s eyes were on the one functioning monitor left in the room.
In Main Mission, Koenig and Simmonds were nose to nose, Koenig
apparently reading his superior the riot act about something. Then,
cutting through it all, Nick heard a voice shouting.
“Commander, it’s going up!” He saw Koenig turn from Simmonds, and
run to one of the control stations, shouting - “Abort! Abort the
mission!”
“Oh my God, Nick,” said Nat, at last up for air. With their
vampiric hearing, they could hear the shouts and cries of Eagle crews,
as their ships began to break apart, struck by the wildly arcing bolts
of energy, flailing from one waste vault to another.
“All ships return to base immediately!” ordered Paul Morrow.
“Repeat, return to base immediately.”
But it was too late. The impossible was happening. First one waste
vault, then a second, erupted in violent blasts of light and energy,
spewing their contents into vacuum, atoms fissioning in a dance
rapidly spiraling out of control.
“Oh my God,” breathed Nicholas. “He was right, Nat. Schanke was
right.”
In orbit, Alan had Area Two in the main viewport. There was a
flash of light, then another one.
“Oh…”
Each and every waste vault began to heave in all directions, as
each and every canister evaporated in the exponentially rising heat.
Within seconds, the perimeter of the dump was blown to dust, followed
by the monitoring depot, less than a second later. Then after one more
heartbeat, fissioning run wild, it went supercritical.
“Juppiter serva nos!” said LaCroix, as the tiny flicker of light
on the limb of the moon swelled into a miniature sun. Even he was
forced to shield his eyes, as the fireball grew brighter and brighter,
at last casting his shadow back onto the wall of the Raven. For several
seconds, the flare grew brighter still, seeming to become as large as
the moon itself.
Alan shielded his eyes as well, as the titanic fireball bathed his
cockpit with its angry radiance. So incredible, so impossible was this
thing, that for several seconds, he simply could not think. Not of
Alpha, not of his friends, his family on Earth, not even of the brave
crews now reduced to plasma. His mind was utterly and completely numb.
He could croak out but a single word.
“No!”
Nick and Nat felt the first tell-tale vibration before anyone
else, as the initial seismic waves rippled through the body of the
moon. “Merde!” he cried, then felt the vibrations rise, becoming more
violent. He stumbled, as the floor went out from under him. Losing his
grip on Nat, he toppled into the console behind him. It erupted in
violent sparks, high voltage coursing through his frame. He cried out
in pain, then was brutally pitched forward, tumbling over Nat to crash
into Tony.
“Get off…me!” wheezed Tony, trying to shove him off, as one
monitor screen popped, and the lights went down. Nick slid off Tony as
the shaking continued, and tried to get to his feet. The emergency
lights at last clicked on, then…
Nick was slammed to the floor by a powerful wave of force.
Something invisible was pressing down on him, pinning him to the floor.
“N…Nick! He heard Nat rasp. “What’s happening?”
“I…don’t know…Nat.” He tried to think, to keep his mind clear as
the pressure built up on him. Then it suddenly came to him. The blast,
the shaking, and now this. No. No! It could not possibly be. But it
must be!
They were moving!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Captain?” said Tracy Vetter, in her boss’s office. She saw the
flash of light through the window, and Reese turned. His eyes went
wide, then he had to shield them, as the crescent moon was subsumed in
light. Tracy rushed to the window. “Oh my God, Captain,” she cried.
“What’s going on?”
“What the hell…” was all Reese could manage to say.
Lucien LaCroix literally could not believe his eyes. Even though
his skin stung from this new luminance, he remained riveted to the
spot, never taking his eyes off the moon. The fireball that had erupted
from the limb of the moon had now swollen to bloated proportions, then
sprouted a long tongue of flame. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly at
first, the moon began to move across the sky! Moment by moment, it
picked up speed, till it appeared to be literally rolling across the
vault of heaven.
“Nicholas,” whispered LaCroix.
“What?” gasped Nat, as the emergency lights went out too, grabbing
something and hauling herself to her knees.
“We’re moving,” said Tony, pinned like a squashed bug to the
floor. He recognized G-forces when he felt them. “Dio mio! We’re
moving!”
“But how?” rasped Nicholas, who with his greater strength had made
it to his knees as well. “How?”
Alan Carter watched in utter disbelief as the moon below him began
to move. He couldn’t fathom it. How?
Desperately, he tried to raise Alpha, steering his ship out of the
path of the monstrous pillar of nuclear destruction. There was no
answer. “Alpha can you read me? ALPHA!!?”
Then, at last, he heard a weak voice.
“Carter.” It was raspy, as if in pain, but he clearly recognized
Commander Koenig. At least he was okay, and something was still working
down there.
“We’ve got tremendous G-forces,” rasped Koenig. “We
can…hardly…move.”
“Oh, God,” whispered Carter. “What do I…” Then, he saw the fiery
tongue of energy begin slowly to dim, growing shorter and starting to
disperse. Within a few heartbeats, it was less than half as bright or
long, then began to fade entirely from view, leaving only a glowing,
angry red-white crater in its wake, filled with boiling molten rock.
“Wait a minute,” Koenig went on. “We’re decelerating.”
Nick felt the pressures on his body begin to ease, and he at last
tried to stand. Nat was doing the same, as was Verdeschi. As he made
it, the lights came back up.
“You alright?” asked Natalie. “Nick?”
“Yeah, I think so, Nat.” He looked at Tony. What would Verdeschi
do, now? Around them, Security was a mess. Wrecked controls, smashed
monitors, the lot. For several seconds, no one said a word, as living
and Undead stared at each other across the rubble.
“All sections report,” came Morrow’s voice over the speaker. Tony
tried his desk, but the monitor was dead. He touched the IC.
“Security section,” he announced. “We have audio contact. Video
systems gone.” He clicked off, and looked directly at the two vampires.
“Who the hell are you?”
LaCroix watched the moon’s fiery tail begin to fade, his face
blank. How? How could such a thing be? He did not know, he did not
care. All he knew was that Nicholas, his Nicholas, his son, was up
there, on Alpha. Was he…had he…?
The old vampire plopped down onto the sidewalk in front of the
Raven, one hand holding on the streetlamp, never taking his eyes off
the retreating moon. His back to the wall, he felt the anguish, the
pain, the despair! begin to rise up inside.
Nicholas was gone! Never again would he see him, never again would
he hear that voice. NEVER! His mind was filled with that, and only
that, as he watched his favorite child move ever further away into the
night. Without him even being aware of it, he began to cry, the tears
coming slowly at first, then bursting forth like a Russian Spring. He
pounded on the sidewalk, cracking the concrete in his pathetic,
impotent fury.
“Damn you!” he wailed, utterly miserable, oblivious to the people
nearby, oblivious to the earthquake beginning to churn Lake Ontario. He
threw back his head, and bellowed at the shrinking moon.
“DAMN YOU NICHOLAS!!!”
Alan opted to return to Alpha, rather than try for Earth. He was
never certain why, to the end of his days, this was so. But, when
Koenig asked if he could make it back to the base, he at once answered-
“Yeah. I can make it.”
He put his ship down on pad four, and discovered that his Eagle
would be sitting there a while. Though the cowling still worked, the
lift was off-line. Most of Alpha’s systems were still down, and the
huge lift motors were without electrical power.
He was not the only one to land, however. Three of the Eagles over
Area Two had been able to blast out of there. One had crashed and
exploded, but the other two were closing with Alpha now.
Survivors, he thought. Survivors.
Verdeschi awoke, alone. His vision was spinning. Must have whacked
his head. Man, what a…
“Sanchez?” he called. No answer. “Sanchez!” In the inner room, he
found his deputy, buried under part of the collapsed ceiling. He
cursed, and turned towards the door. It was damaged, stuck part way
open. He forced it, at last getting the pneumatic release to kick in.
The corridor was a mess, too. The commpost was partly down,
hanging from its cable trunk, ruptured conduits dangling from the
ceiling. Most of the lights were out, with only a ghostly glow
illuminating the area. Main Mission wasn’t too bad, he decided upon
entering. On the big screen was a picture of them, of Alpha,
transmitted from the Mars Colony Satellite. The moon was moving away
from the Earth, and moving damned fast, too.
“Santa Maria!” he breathed, and unconsciously reached for the
crucifix he no longer wore. He watched as Ouma got the computer back
up, and Koenig consulted it about “Operation Exodus”, the last-ditch
emergency evacuation of Alpha, in the event of total catastrophe. After
several tense minutes, the machine delivered its report.
“Human decision required.”
How like a computer, Verdeschi thought.
Koenig went on the horn, to inform all Alpha of his decision. The
computer could give him no firm data from which to plot a return
course. There was no way, given Alpha’s current state, that an
evacuation could be launched while still within Eagle range of Earth.
Simply put, they were marooned.
“Therefore,” said Koenig, voice scratchy over the damaged
communications network, “in my judgement, we do not try.”
“My…My God, Nick,” said Nat, in her lab, on the edge of either
panic or tears. They had “whammied” Tony, and retreated to the lab.
Nat’s work, the Litoveuterine experiments, lay in ruins around them.
Fortunately, the blood synthesizer was still on-line. “What are we
going to do?”
“I don’t know, Nat,” he said, and took her in his arms. She began
to cry, whether because of fear, or shock, or terror, he did not know.
He never had understood that about women. Tears. Not his mother, not
Fleur, not Alyssa, none of them. Vampire or mortal, 1228 or 1999, he
was still as much in the dark as ever. He let her wind down, at last
wiping her eyes, and looking down at her. He opened his mouth to speak,
but the door to the main ward popped open.
“We’ve got casualties incoming,” said Ben Vincent. “Come on.”
Then, like the total pro she was, Nat shifted into “Doctor” mode, and
strode, square-shouldered, into the ward.
“But how?” asked Nick of Bergman, later, in Medical.
“The blast was opposite our direction of movement,” said the old
academic. “It accelerated us in the direction we were already moving.
Sufficiently, it appears, to break Earth’s hold on us. The G-forces
that pinned us down were, though, only our own artificial gravity
system gone wild. It should be fine, now.”
“What will we do now?” asked Nat, voice flat and exhausted.
“How…how will we survive?”
“With care, Alpha can support us for years, Natalie. In the
meantime, we look for somewhere else to live. It’s all we can do.” He
turned as Helena came in, looking as beat as Nat. It had been ten hours
and some change since what was already being called “Breakaway”, and
every member of the medical staff had been going non-stop, tending to
the casualties. So far, they had 7 dead, 161 injured, with 17 requiring
hospitalization. Two were in critical condition.
“Hi,” Helena said, distractedly.
“Well?” asked Victor. “How are we doing, Helena?”
“Yasko will make it. She’s strong. So will Kano and Tony.” Her
eyes darted towards Nick and Nat for a moment. “Sanchez in Security was
DOA, though. So were Kapelos and Ohama, down in the hangar bay. We just
called Kabukulu, and Jack Crawford’s hanging on by a thread. Could go
either way.” She plopped down in a chair, and fairly wilted. “If we
lose him…God, he and Sue are so close, and with her just finding out
she’s pregnant…”
“What about the dead woman?”
Uh oh.
“She was the stewardess on the shuttle that brought Commander
Koenig up. Seems she and Sanchez had something going. Tony thinks she
may have been involved with a terrorist group. God knows. Explosives
from the lockers were found in Sanchez’s quarters, with her prints on
them.” Victor nodded, then rose, moving stiffly with the cervical
collar around his neck. At the door, he turned back.
“Come and see me Nick, Nat,” said Bergman, “once things settle
down, and you’ve had a chance to rest. Alright?” There was a twinkle in
the Professor’s eye.
“Uh, well…”said Nat.
“Oh don’t worry,” said Victor. “Your secret is safe with me.” So
said, he turned and left. Natalie turned to Helena.
“No, I didn’t tell him,” said the CMO, “but he saw the wounds on
that woman before I could cover it up. He’s a brilliant man, Nat. But
you can trust him, believe me. Victor Bergman is a man of his word.”
“How did you write Alexandra up?” asked Nicholas.
“Fractured skull, broken neck, along with the debris in her chest.
All her blood was there, as far as the death certificate is concerned.
Same for Sanchez.”
“I hate to blacken Sanchez’s name,” said Nick, “But we cannot risk
it. If people find out, Helena.”
“I know. Panic. A lynchmob.” She turned as the door opened, and
Dr. Ed Spencer entered. One of Simmonds’ “top people”, he’d said little
since Breakaway, but was turning out to be an absolute wizard as far as
triage was concerned. He handed Helena a clipboard, and she signed yet
another death certificate. With a weak smile at the Barbers, he turned
and left. “God, I hate death certificates,” she sighed. “Like we even
needed them, up here. What does Tony remember?”
“Nothing, just Breakaway,” said Nick. “I blanked his mind, and
took the hardcopy of our file from his office. I’ll have to hack the
system, later. We didn’t have time to hide Alexandra’s body.”
“Lucky you had time for anything,” said Helena. “Where was she
living, by the way?”
“In one of the empty, unoccupied sections. Hardly anyone ever went
in there, anyway. It was perfect.”
“I understand,” Helena sighed again. “And Nat,” she said, putting
a hand on Nat’s, “I’ll do everything that I can, to help you. Both of
you.”
“It’s all gone,” said Nat, looking around. “All of it. Even the
computer files are gone.”
“Then we begin again. And it’ll be easy. I…copied your notes.”
“You what?” cried Nat, clearly surprised.
“Yes. I’ve been tracking your research for over a month, now.”
“A mon…”
“Ever since I saw you taste Tony’s blood.”
“I…”
“Like I said,” repeated Helena, “your secret is safe.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Did you hear?” Nat asked Nick, later. He was standing on the
gallery overlooking Main Mission, staring out at the stars. Below,
workers from Technical were finishing up the repairs to the equipment,
thanks in part to David Kano’s obsessive stockpiling of spare parts.
Barring the unforeseen, Moonbase Alpha would continue to function for
years.
“What?” asked Nicholas, his mind elsewhere.
“We’re out of communications range with Earth, Nick. They sent off
a signal at full strength, but no one knows if anyone got it.” She
handed him a container of blood. He looked at it for several seconds,
before raising it to his lips. He sipped slowly, and felt the new
energy suffuse him. Once it was empty, he looked at the container, then
back out at the stars. Up and slightly to the left, the sun was still
visible, a slightly brighter dot amidst all the countless billions of
other dots.
“I heard.”
“And we crossed the orbit of Pluto about an hour ago, Victor
said.”
“That’s fast.”
“Yeah. Victor’s people are doing calculations, but no one seems to
understand why we’re travelling so fast.
“How fast?” asked Nick, though he really didn’t care. All he knew
was that he was cut off, forever, from everything, and everyone he had
ever known. And it was a virtual certainty, here in the closed
community of Alpha, that his and Nat’s nature would eventually be
discovered.
What then? Whither they?
“He’s not sure. One reading says well over half the speed of
light, the next said barely 10,000 miles an hour. Each observation
produces a different result, Victor said. It doesn’t make any sense,
Nick.”
“None of this makes any sense, Nat. I should have heeded Erica’s
warning. I should have listened to Alyssa. To Don. Damn…”
“Nick, don’t!” she snapped, shaking him and making him look her in
the eye. “It’s too late for that. You can’t blame yourself for this,
along with everything else you blame yourself for. Hell’s bells, Alpha
was my idea, remember?”
“Yeah,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “I know. I know,
Natalie.”
“And we couldn’t just run out, and leave Alexandra free, Nick. You
were absolutely right about that. Maybe…maybe it’s…maybe this, is just
a part of our destinies, Nick.”
“I…”
“Hey, forget the guilt, Nick. You hear me?” She shook him again,
gently. “Don’t do that, okay?” She looked up at him, and smiled. For a
few moments they listened to the sounds of Alpha. The whir of the
equipment, the voices of the techs below trailing away as they left the
room, the whir of the ventilators at last coming back up. Natalie
looked down, and saw Koenig enter Main Mission, alone. He looked about,
and sighed heavily, seemingly years older already. Even from here, Nat
could feel the burden, the loneliness, of command that sat upon him.
Then he looked up, espying the two of them.
“Come on, Nick. Let’s go. Beddy-bye time. We’ve got one hell of a
long day, tomorrow.” She turned. “Nick?”
“Coming, Natalie,” he said, yet lingered a while longer. Where, he
wondered, were they headed? Towards a new home? Another world? Or were
he and Nat, along with the rest of the survivors of Breakaway, doomed
to drift forever, aimlessly, through the trackless wastes of space?
Well, Erica? he thought. Dear Alyssa? Schanke? What now? But they did
not appear, none of them, to speak with him. And the stars, holding
their own counsel, gave no answer to Nicholas de Brabant.
Then, as he turned away, he heard, ever so faintly in the back of
his mind, a thought. A thought, and a voice. An old voice, one he knew
very, very well. It carried to him, he knew not how, across the
countless miles;
“Damn you, Nicholas!”
END